


Healthy Impropriety

by mtothedestiel



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Bathing/Washing, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Competition, Courtship, Dancing, Drunkenness, Engagement, Fencing, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Frottage, Happy Ending, Intimacy, Kissing, Letters, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Masturbation, Meet-Cute, Miscommunication, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Victor, POV Victor Nikiforov, Public Display of Affection, Regency Romance, Reunions, Sexual Fantasy, Slow Burn, Smut, True Love, Victorian, Wedding Night, Wedding Rings, rich victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 29,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9162262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtothedestiel/pseuds/mtothedestiel
Summary: Victor is the wealthy master of the Nikiforov estate.  At a society party he's swept off his feet by the mysterious, suave, and very drunk Katsuki Yuuri.  Victor aims to declare his love and secure Mr. Katsuki's hand in marriage, but first he has to find him!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so somebody (me) watched Sense and Sensibility AND the entire Pride and Prejudice miniseries today, and so here we are. Much like canon Yuri on Ice, this Regency AU will be discrimination free, so consider this to be a totally same sex marriage friendly society where everyone just happens to love wearing velvet frock coats. Tags will be added as we advance the plot! Enjoy!!
> 
> Additional note: Both Yuri's are prominent in this story, I've specified "Yuuri" to mean Yuri Katsuki, and "Yuri" to mean Yuri Plisetsky. Hopefully things are clear!

 

“I don’t see why we even had to come to this party.  We hardly know a soul here.”

Victor sighs deeply, though young Master Plisetsky has a fair point.  Still, his ward could stand to give them five minutes in the door of the gathering before pronouncing such a sour judgement.  Victor knows Celestino to be a gentleman of the highest manner, and he was glad to receive an invitation to his townhouse this evening.  As far as balls go it’s a fairly intimate gathering, with only a few dozen guests, but there’s music and food and drink aplenty to fill the spacious rooms.

“I’ll admit I’m counting on Celestino to make some introductions on our behalf,” Victor replies, keeping his voice low as he searches the handsome crowd for a familiar face.  He has no fear of his station nor the cut of his figure making him out of place in this cosmopolitan gathering, but a friend would certainly be welcome at this moment.  Among his own circles Victor considers himself quite the extrovert, but he finds himself somewhat withdrawn in the company of total strangers.  

“Do you see our host, Yuri?” Victor asks his teenage companion. Yuri Plisetsky is ward of the Nikiforov estate, nearly sixteen and not yet officially debuted to society, but Victor hardly feels it fair to lock him in his room every night while he gets to go to balls and cocktail parties.  It may not be traditional, but Victor is master of his estate now, so he’ll bring Yuri along as he pleases.  

Yuri spots Celestino in the corner with several older men, nearly passed out.  The number of goblets decorating their small table indicates the source of their lethargy, and Victor feels some discouragement in regard to the night’s prospects.

“It seems Celestino is already too far into his cups to pay his guests much attention,” Yuri grumbles, stiff in his first proper set of evening wear.

“Mind your manners,” Victor reminds his young ward, nodding at Celestino benevolently, “Or you’ll find yourself relegated to the nursery with the other children next time we’re invited to a society event."

Yuri scowls, but keeps his silence at Victor’s behest.  Victor sends him off in search of a glass of sherry for them both, silently agreeing with his ward despite his censure.  Before this night he only knew Celestino as a sober sportsman, having enjoyed many a hunting trip with him at his estate, yet he would not be the first gentleman Victor had met to hold an entirely different countenance while in the city.  

“Victor, my friend!”  Victor looks up at the greeting to see Lieutenant Giacometti approach, having removed himself from a group of very attentive young ladies.  

“Christophe.”  Victor breathes a sigh of relief.  At least he knows someone at this party.  “It’s good to see you.”

“How did we ever manage to coerce you out of the gymnasium and into a dinner jacket?”  Christophe meets him him halfway, giving him a brief kiss on one cheek then the other.

“Regrettably I can’t hunt in the dead of night, nor am I welcome on the fencing field, so I had to do something with my time,” Victor replies, returning Christophe’s greeting in the continental style.  It’s hardly proprietous, but Victor has no dearer friend, and Christophe is quite well known to be madly in love with his very respectable husband.

“I’m glad we could serve as consolatory company, anyways.”  

“You’re looking well,” Victor notes, admiring the crisp red of Christophe’s lieutenant uniform, “Though I’m afraid we clash.”  His violet dinner jacket is the latest fashion, but he’s feeling a little out of place among the more muted colors of this gathering.  

“Our dress isn’t the only thing clashing.” Christophe gives a pointed glance around the room.  “I’m afraid I find myself quite ignorant of most of our company tonight, and Celestino is little help in his current state.”

“Yuri was just expressing himself similarly.”

“Ah, don’t tell me you brought your foundling?  He must be quite bored.”

“I’ve sent him to find us a drink,” Victor says, nodding his agreement, “He’s been a few minutes, so he must have found something to occupy his attentions.”

“Lucky him,” Christophe sighs, “The dance floor seems the only reprieve from this lackluster gathering, and partners few enough besides.”

“A pity.”  Victor imagines he’ll take his share of turns tonight.  The musicians seem lively enough, and besides it would be the worst show of manners if he were to refuse, if there are indeed few partners to go around.  He casts his eye across the small dance floor, only to have his eye caught immediately on a young man who seems to have had more to drink than he could handle.  By no means is he making a spectacle of himself, but his inebriation is clear in the enthusiasm of his movements across the floor, and the lopsided grin he offered to the more sedate participants in the quadrille.

“That dancer seems to have followed Celestino’s example,” Victor comments with some humor, “Though he seems much more affable than some who’ve partaken of the punch.”

Christophe follows Victor’s eye to the young man in question, and laughs when he spots him.  “Indeed.  I’ll give him credit, he does follow the music quite well.  I venture when he’s sober he’s quite a desired partner on the floor.”

Victor nods, following the man through the movements of the group dance.  “Do you know him?” he asks his friend, “I’ve been in town for some time, but I’ve never seen him before.”

“A Mr. Katsuki, I believe,” Christophe informs him, “He’s a guest of our host, but it seems no one knew of him before tonight.  With such manners, I’d venture to guess he’s a friend from the country.  His dinner jacket must be borrowed as well, with such an odd fit.”

“Be kind, Christophe,” Victor replies, eyes following the young man, “At least he’s enjoying himself.”  

Despite the flush of alcohol staining his visage, there is a certain magnetism to Mr. Katsuki.  He’s certainly fit, his shoulders still an elegant line beneath his admittedly ill-fitted navy coat and his legs well turned as he dances with the carefree step of the pleasantly intoxicated.  The formal movements of the quadrille can’t mask the young man’s natural grace, nor does his drunkenness inhibit his care in leading his partner through the circling motion of the dance.

“Perhaps the fit of his coat does not bother you so much, eh Victor?” Christophe says, interrupting Victor’s impolite staring.  He offers his friend a half-hearted glare.  

“Don’t be crass.  His weaving step merely draws the eye.”

Christophe allows his lie to pass as Victor looks back to Mr. Katsuki just in time to inadvertently lock gazes with the young gentlemen from the other side of the dance floor.  Immediately it seems Mr. Katsuki forgets his role to play in the current dance, and he stumbles when he is bumped by his former partner.  Victor has to cover his smile with a gloved hand when he sees Mr. Katsuki offer slightly uncoordinated apologies, using the other dancer for balance when his bow becomes a little wobbly.  Apologies made, Victor is startled when Katsuki finds his gaze again, and offers Victor a charming smile with the clear intent of coming to speak to him.

“It would seem you have been targeted,” Christophe observes, eyes bright with mirth as Mr. Katsuki stumbles his way between the spinning dancers, “I think I’ll see what’s keeping Master Plisetsky with the sherry.”

“Chris-”  Too late, his friend has abandoned him, and Victor is left without even a mutual acquaintance to make a polite introduction when Katsuki approaches.  Fortunately this seems little deterrence to the handsome young man.  He ventures into Victor’s space and nearly knocks him on the chin when he gives a choppy bow.  

“Sir,” Katsuki slurs, bright eyes tracing up Victor’s figure in a manner not wholly unwelcome, “You caught my eye and even from across the room I was nearly blinded by your sparkling presence.”  

Victor laughs at the accidentally backhanded compliment, offering Mr. Katsuki a genteel bow in return. “I am sorry to have distracted you from that skilled quadrille.  I shall endeavor to keep my sparkling to a less hazardous level, now that we are to be acquainted.”

Victor’s humor is taken well, Katsuki’s grin lighting up his warm countenance.  “It’s my pleasure.  I am Katsuki Yuuri.”

“Victor Nikiforov.  The pleasure is mine.”

“If you are not engaged,” Katsuki requests, cravat askew, “Might I be so bold as to reserve your company for the next dance?”

Katsuki bows again, offering his hand with a flourish that sends a few of the nearby guests tittering.  Victor silences them with a look.  Let them mock young Katsuki, he thinks.  At least he is an agreeable drunk, unlike their surly husbands and shrill wives.  Victor offers Mr. Katsuki a cordial smile, placing his own white gloved hand in his waiting black one.

“I am not engaged,” Victor replies, “I would be glad to take a turn with such a capable dancer.”

Katsuki beams, bringing Victor’s hand near his lips to kiss the air above his knuckles in a move just at the very edge of propriety, and Victor finds his cheeks warm with a pleased blush.  Katsuki Yuuri has certainly brought a breath of fresh air to this dull party.

 

* * *

 

 

Victor doesn’t want to know what the hour is when he finally awakens in his own bed.  His head swims, and the late morning light streaming through his open curtains is little help to his hangover.  Victor had quite a bit more to drink after that first dance with Katsuki Yuuri, but he remembers calling for his carriage some time after midnight.  He remembers getting his own Yuri home safely, if somewhat grumpy at the late hour.  He remembers...he _remembers…_

_“One more dance,” Yuuri pleads, eyes bright with drink and warm candlelight, “You can hardly leave, I’ve barely had the chance to start my seduction.”_

_Victor laughs, though the promise of being seduced by Mr. Katsuki seems appealing indeed.  “I’m afraid I must see my young companion home safely,” he laments, “Or I would gladly give you time to exercise your skills.”_

_They are standing very close.  Victor can smell the warmth of Mr. Katsuki’s cologne, as well of the sweet tang of alcohol on both their breaths.  He must take his leave, lest they be the cause of any rumours._

_“May I call on you?” Katsuki asks, Victor’s hand clasped between his own, “I pray I might share more of your company after this night.”_

_“I could think of no greater pleasure.”_

_The last thing Victor recalls is Katsuki Yuuri boldly pulling his fingers to his lips, but unlike their first meeting he does not restrain himself.  The press of Yuuri’s lips to his gloved hand burns like a firebrand, and Victor knows his heart is no longer his own._

Victor springs upright in his bed, giving his favorite hunting dog a good fright where he was asleep by Victor’s feet.  Victor temporarily ignores his surprised bark, leaping from bed to ring his valet.  He must be dressed and off at once!  

“Makkachin,” Victor crows, giving his canine companion a hearty scratch between the ears.

“Makkachin, my old friend I’m sorry I startled you but there’s no help for it. I’m in love!”

He twirls around the bedroom in only his nightshirt, hangover quite forgotten.

  
“I’m in love with Mr. Yuuri Katsuki!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! We venture onward on this romantic adventure. note that I've added the "slow burn" tag, given the careful nature of the period romance. Fear not, this story will be much steamier than your average Austen novel. Cheers!

_May I call on you?_

_I could think of no greater pleasure._

Victor waits.  He waits the full day after the party for a card, then the three days it’s considered polite to wait for a planned call, then he waits two more days to account for an impolite delay.  After one week with no word or visit from Mr. Katsuki Victor begins to doubt his own memory.  Was he unclear in his regard?  Was Katsuki less genuine in his intentions than Victor believed in the passion of the moment?  

On the eighth day Victor writes and posts a stack of notes, inquiring to all his local friends as to Mr. Katsuki’s lodgings or family, with no informative replies.  Few were at Celestino’s gathering, and those who were did not know the young gentleman.  With such a lack of news Victor is ashamed to say he falls into a deep despair.  Katsuki Yuuri appears to have vanished into the ether, and along with him the most hopeful fantasies of Victor’s heart.  Nearing thirty years of age, he will likely never find a suitable match, and die a bachelor with no one but his hunting dogs for company.  It’s enough to make anyone stay in bed for days on end.   

“Enough!” Yuri declares when Victor fails to leave their apartment on the tenth day.  “This idiotic moping ends today.  You're coming with me to my fencing lesson.”  

Victor huffs, toying plaintively with the tie of his dressing gown.  “As if you would be a match for me.”  

Victor yelps when Yuri throws open the drapes to the sitting room and he’s blinded by the bright morning light.  

“Get dressed,” Yuri orders, “Doing nothing will get you nothing, and your ill-spirit is beginning to irritate me.”

“Precocious for a boy just out of short pants, aren't we?” Victor grumbles, but at length he does rise from his chaise.  Perhaps young Yuri is right.  Some exercise will do him good, and energize him to continue his search for Katsuki Yuuri.

“Very well,” he agrees, “I shall give you an exhibition of my legendary skills with a blade!  It will no doubt be an entertaining diversion before I renew my quest for true love.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Another touch to Mr. Nikiforov!  Well done, sir.”  

“Thank you, Yakov.”  Victor salutes their long time fencing master while Yuri seethes, out of breath from their match.

“Give me a chance, will you?”  He demands.

“Ah ah ah,” Victor chides, bringing his foil to start position once again, “I recall someone asking me not to go easy on them…”

“Pardon me, sir,” a servant interrupts them, “But there’s a letter for you.”

Victor removes his glove to receive the letter and is surprised to see the blue seal of their previous host Celestino on the envelope.

“What news might this be?” He wonders aloud as he unfolds the creamy stationary.  They break to refresh themselves while he reads the short letter.

_Mr. Nikiforov,_

_May this letter find you and your household in good health!  I fear I barely had the chance to speak to you at my little gathering last week, and I feel compelled to make amends for my rudeness.  I found you to be a most amiable hunting companion on our previous trip, and I wish to make available my grounds for a short shooting venture this coming weekend.  I hope you are available, as I’ve quite a surplus of pheasant but lack a quality sportsman to assist me in reducing their numbers.  In any case I offer my best regards._

_Your obedient servant,_

_Celestino Cialdini_

“Aha!” Victor cries, jabbing his foil into the air in triumph, “A perfect opportunity!”  Their instructor looks quite scandalized, but Yuri merely rolls his eyes.  

“I’m afraid we must cut our practice short today, Yakov,” Victor declares with an apologetic bow, “For I must answer this letter at once!”

They make their way from the gymnasium, Yuri quite put out at having his lesson ended early, but Victor is not to have his mood dampened.  

“I hardly see how going hunting is going to help you find this drunken fool.”

“Easy,” Victor chirps, ruffling his ward’s mop of blonde locks, “Katsuki was the guest of Celestino.  Now _we_ are to be guests at his estate.  If we keep alert our paths are bound to cross!  Now we must away, for there is much to prepare for our journey to the country.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another quick chapter! A brief warning here for very vague sport hunting, and thus the vague death of several pheasants. The only sentence even near specific in its description is the first one, so if you don't care to read about Victor shooting you can just skip to the second paragraph down that begins "He and Yuri had arrived..."  
> Enjoy, and thanks for all the great comments so far!

Victor takes careful aim, and the harsh _crack_ of his shot rings through the air as he handily bags a most handsome pheasant.   

“Excellent shot, Mr. Nikiforov,” Celestino calls as Makkachin bounds after Victor’s prize.  

“Thank you, Mr. Cialdini,” Victor replies, “It flew right into my sights.  Your grounds host some very cooperative birds.”

He and Yuri had arrived in time for dinner last night, and this morning has been spent most pleasantly on Celestino’s hunting grounds.  It’s not as familiar as his own reserve, but the weather is fair and the pheasant plentiful.  Victor can call himself quite content.  While he enjoys the sparkle of a society party, not to mention the pleasing attentions he receives in a well-fitted dinner jacket, some part of Victor will always be most at home is his billowing overcoat, traipsing the moors with his gun and Makkachin at his side.

They make their way through the brush, making light conversation and stopping to attempt a shot now and again.  One of Celestino’s men follows to collect their catch.

“It’s too bad we couldn’t convince your ward to join us.”  

Victor sighs, but offers Celestino a reassuring grin.  “He meant no slight, I assure you,” he says, “I’m afraid my Yuri is more of an indoor sportsman.  He’s quite a skill on the fencing field.”  

“He takes after his guardian in that regard, I’m sure,” Celestino agrees, “Still, he may yet warm to shooting once he’s tall enough to hold a gun.”  

Victor chuckles, imagining his slight ward attempting to aim their single shots.  A fencing foil is much more suited to Yuri’s current stature.  

Yuri’s graceful steps on the fencing field remind Victor of his dance with the older, more suave Yuuri.  Now is a perfect time to seek a little information without risk of impropriety.

“I met another young gentlemen at your party last week,” Victor segues deftly, “I gathered he was a particular guest of yours.  I found him to be quite amiable, but I’d not seen him in town before.”

“Ah, you must mean Katsuki.”  Celestino takes aim at a pheasant some yards away, but his shot is wide. “A fine young man.  I’ve been sponsoring him since he was old enough for boarding school.”

“Sponsoring?”

“Mm.  His family runs an inn in town.  They’re hardly impoverished, but university wasn’t in their allowance, and it’s not like I’ve any of my own children to spend my money on.”

“I see.”   _Not a gentleman at all, then_ , Victor thinks, _which explains his borrowed dress and coarse manners._  He immediately chastises himself for such a thought.  As if his affections are so shallow as to be swayed by the state of his intended’s birth.

“I understand he did well in his studies,” Celestino continues, reloading his rifle, “An education never hurts in finding a profession, and a profession an advantageous marriage.  We may yet see young Katsuki a real member of society.”

 _An advantageous marriage_.  Victor’s heart sinks.  He certainly has the fortune to support a spouse, and he’s had suitors male and female to show for it.  But none had any interest in him beyond his income.  Is Katsuki Yuuri merely another social climber as well?  

No.  Victor rejects that thought as quickly as it popped into his head.  Their connection at the ball was genuine, even through the haze of liquor. The electricity of their first words, their undeniable sync on the dance floor, the intimacy of Katsuki’s lips pressed to his knuckles...these were not the fantasies of a lonely bachelor, nor the machinations of a gold digger.  Katsuki Yuuri owns his heart, and if he wants Victor’s money too, then so be it.  It will not be the only reason for affection between them, Victor is sure of it.

“Lost in thought, Nikiforov?” Celestino interrupts Victor’s brooding.  He shakes off his pensive thoughts.  

“Only of your generosity, sir,” Victor says, clapping him on the shoulder, “You are as free with your income as you are with your hunting grounds.”

“And with my brandy,” Celestino agrees, barking out a laugh, “If you’d care to join me for a sip.  It’s getting a bit nippy out here and we seem to have scared off all the birds.”

  
“After you,” Victor agrees, shouldering his rifle and whistling for Makkachin.  The spring weather does turn chill as they make their way back to the house, but Victor takes it in stride.  Mud soaked boots and a cold nose are well worth the wealth of information he now has on his beloved.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack! Some backstory begins to emerge! But when will we see Mr. Katsuki again??? Could it be the dinner party in the next chapter????
> 
>  
> 
>  


	4. Chapter 4

“I hope you don’t mind, I’ve invited a few of my neighbors for dinner tonight,” Celestino informs Victor and Yuri as they descend the main staircase in their evening wear, “We will still be a small party, but I thought it might make for more lively conversation.”

“We are your guests, Celestino,” Victor says benevolently, “It will be our pleasure to meet your friends as you choose.”

Yuri, if he feels differently, miraculously chooses to keep his opinion to himself as they enter a tasteful sitting room to wait for dinner.  

“It seems you will already know one of them,” Celestino declares just as Victor catches sight of a most familiar visage, “What a pleasant surprise, Mr. Katsuki!”

“Oh  _ great _ ,” Victor hears Yuri mutter under his breath, but his eyes are only for Katsuki Yuuri.

Even without the flush of alcohol staining his cheeks Victor’s beloved looks quite well.  His complexion is warm and his brown eyes bright as he turns to greet his host.  His deep green coat is a few years out of style but obviously well maintained.  The style is most conservative, with hardly a bit of froth to his cravat and his dark waistcoat firmly buttoned.  Still, sober dress cannot hide Mr. Katsuki’s fine figure, and Victor’s heart sings to finally share a room once more with the object of his affections.

Katsuki Yuuri, on the other hand, appears most anxious as he offers Celestino a deep bow.  

“Sir, please forgive my intrusion-”

“Don’t let him apologize, Celestino,” interrupts a finely dressed woman from a nearby sofa,  “Mr. Katsuki is my hostage for the night.  My lord husband had some urgent business in town that forces him to miss our dinner, so I compelled our young friend here to serve as his replacement.”

“Ah, then the mystery of my guest list is solved,” Celestino declares with good humor, “Shame on your husband for abandoning us, my lady, but Mr. Katsuki you are most welcome.”  

“Thank you, sir.” Katsuki casts a curious eye to Victor and Yuri, and Celestino remembers to continue his hosting duties.  

“Ah, of course, allow me to introduce my guests.  Victor Nikiforov, lord of his estate, and Master Yuri Plisetsky, his ward.  Mr. Nikiforov, Mr. Katsuki.”

They bow politely, Katsuki Yuuri bending slightly lower as befits Victor’s station.  

“It’s a pleasure to see you tonight, Mr. Katsuki,” Victor says, praying his voice does not fall too eager on their host’s ears.  All romance aside he does not wish to escape propriety completely.

“I’m sure the pleasure is mine,” Katsuki replies.  Victor grins to hear their greetings from that fateful night repeated, but Mr. Katsuki merely looks at him in polite confusion.  Indeed Katsuki Yuuri hardly spares Victor a glance beyond the required civility, casting his eyes to the floor at once after their introduction.  

_ What in the devil is going on? _  Victor wonders, uncertain whether Katsuki means to slight him intentionally or some greater mystery is afoot.   _ It’s as if he doesn’t know me at all. _

“And the Lady Minako,” Celestino interrupts Victor’s puzzlement, “Her husband is the lord of the closest estate east.  They have a fine series of trout lakes.”  

“You certainly know how to make a flattering introduction, Mr. Cialdini,” Lady Minako teases as she offers Victor and Yuri a shallow curtsey.  They bow in return, the even match of depth as is required meeting a social equal.

“You may be more familiar with my scandalous past,” Lady Minako reveals candidly, causing Victor to raise his eyebrows in surprise.  Celestino merely laughs.  

“Indeed, I thought it rude to bring it up before you did, my lady, though you never fail to,” he says, before informing Victor, “Lady Minako was quite the prima ballerina before she was married.  It was before Master Plisetsky’s time, but you might have been old enough for the theatre when she was on the stage.”

“Your face does call to my memory,” Victor replies, “I might have been privileged to see one of your performances before you retirement.  Odette the swan princess, perhaps?

“Juliet Capulet, if you please,” Lady Minako replies with a smile, “My director cried for days when he learned of my engagement.”

Victor is pleased to meet a lady of such good humor, but already his thoughts stray back to Katsuki Yuuri, who has retreated subtly to a corner of the room.  His casual stance leaning against a sturdy bookshelf would be quite handsome if he were not so obviously uncomfortable in this social setting.  

It seems every piece of this young man is to stand in peculiar contrast to Victor’s memory.

Unsure of his footing, Victor stands adjacent while Celestino and Lady Minako exchange gossip about a neighboring lord he doesn’t know.  He casts about for a topic of conversation that could draw Katsuki Yuuri’s attention, or better yet, an excuse for them to speak privately.  Master Plisetsky has conveniently found a book of some interest and is engrossed in reading, i.e. being no help at all to Victor’s courtship efforts.

When a lull in conversation comes Victor says the first thing that comes to mind, his eye drawn to the french doors beside the fireplace.  

“I see there is a charming wilderness just beyond this terrace,” Victor stammers, seeking any reason to get his intended alone, “Could you be tempted to take a turn with me before dinner, Mr. Katsuki?”

Katsuki’s eyes go round at being singled out, and Victor curses his clumsy invitation.  Fortunately he is saved by the intervention of the Lady Minako.  

“He’d love to,” she insists, giving Katsuki a firm nudge forward.  “Celestino and I have nothing of interest to discuss but drinking and rheumatism.  You would do well to make conversation with a young man your own age for once, Katsuki.”

“There is no need to twist my arm in such a manner, my lady,” Katsuki jokes weakly, before offering Victor a short bow and a nervous smile, “I would be happy to join Mr. Nikiforov.”

With the blessing of their host they step outside into the cool night air.  With the last light of day fading Victor is more taken than ever with Mr. Katsuki, his dark hair melting alluringly into the shadows of the lush garden before them.

“You must forgive Lady Minako her impropriety on my behalf,” Katsuki apologizes once they are clear of the terrace, “She is a dear friend of my family, and thus much too interested both the frequency of my exercise and the quality of my conversations.”  

“I found no offense in her behavior,” Victor assures him, “And I’m glad for her intervention, lest I miss this opportunity to renew our acquaintance.”

Again Mr. Katsuki frowns, the confusion evident in his features.  Victor cannot doubt the genuine nature of his puzzlement, and is uncertain whether he should take offense that he proved such a forgettable pursuit.

“...Renew?” Kasuki repeats, “Forgive me, sir.  Your countenance is familiar but I cannot recall where we might have been introduced.”

“At a party in the city, some two weeks ago?” Victor tries to remind him despite the pain of being forgotten so quickly, “Our mutual friend Mr. Cialdini played host then as well.”

“Ah, yes, the ball.” Katsuki nods, eyes widening as a blush spreads over his cheeks.  “I was in town helping my father with some business.  I'm not usually a participant in such gatherings, but Celestino was kind enough to invite me.”

Victor frowns.  “Then you must recall-”

“I was so nervous I hardly said one word the entire night.”

_ Nervous?  Hardly said  _ one  _ word? _  Victor is more than confused.  

“I don’t remember much of it.  Celestino assures me I went home early,” Yuuri continues, “But given the headache I bore the next morning I’m sure I managed to make some sort of spectacle.  I hope if we spoke I was not terribly boorish.”

All becomes horribly clear in an instant.  The same flow of alcohol that had released Yuuri from his inhibitions that night also stole his memories of their short time together.  In that moment Victor ungenerously curses Celestino and his damned punch.  Given his more genuine nature Katsuki would never believe himself capable of the seductive and confident behavior he enchanted Victor with at the ball.  Worse still, if Victor were to insist on the truth of that night it might do little but frighten Mr. Katsuki off, given the delicate social sensibilities he has shown thus far tonight.  That would be the worst shame of all, as he seems to be just as handsome and agreeable as the man Victor remembers, if perhaps more withdrawn.

“Mr. Nikiforov?”  Katsuki has paused, and Victor realizes he has been standing stock still in the garden for several moments.  “Are you well?”

Victor rejoins his companion, shaking off his shock in favor of the present moment.   _This is an opportunity_ , Victor thinks, _His missing memories give you a chance to build the connection you already know is there, without the blur of alcohol._ _You must use this advantage prudently, Nikiforov.  It is your turn to play the seductor._

“Ah, yes, forgive me, I’m quite well.  And in regards to the party, you must not think on it,” Victor urges, falling back into step, “I remember my first society gathering.  I was hardly out of university, and I made a terrible fool of myself.  I had grown my hair out, an awful vanity, and I recall getting a lock of it tangled in a baroness’ silk fan.”

Katsuki’s laughter is bright in the starlit garden.  “You must be joking.”

“I’m afraid not,” Victor says, basking in the young man’s mirth, “It took nearly ten minutes to disentangle us, and a full season before the story lost its humor with my friends.”

They share a smile over the incident as they pause to admire a well groomed topiary.

“I understand you are a recent graduate of university yourself,” Victor says after a moment, “Might I enquire as to your area of study?”

“It was a general education,” Katsuki explains, “Though I was extra attentive in the study of finances.  It has been some benefit to my...family’s business.”

Katsuki looks self-conscious, as though he waits for Victor to mock his humble station.

“I have no doubt you are quite learned,” Victor agrees, careful to keep anything but earnestness from him tone, “With such a helpful education I’m sure you could run even a great house with ease.”

Victor frowns at Katsuki’s dismissive laugh.  If he is to have any success seducing this young man Victor is going to have to start by building his confidence.

“I have no such aspirations,” Katsuki demurs, “I merely benefit from the patronage of a generous man.  I don’t want his investment to go to waste.”

“All investing aside,” Victor insists, taking a small step closer, “I’m certain you will be a credit to whatever profession you choose.”  

“You give your compliments too generously, Mr. Nikiforov, but thank you,” Katsuki murmurs, offering a humble bow of his head, “May we head back?  I’m afraid the others will be wondering after us.”

“Of course,” Victor agrees, “Our conversation has caused me to work up quite an appetite.”

Turning at the next well trimmed shrub, they make their way back to the house, just in time for a butler to announce their meal is ready.

Dinner is comparatively a mundane affair, though the roast pheasant is delicious.  Celestino and Lady Minako are well suited to each other in their enthusiasm for wine, and though neither makes a spectacle they leave little room in the conversation for Victor to engage Mr. Katsuki further.  Katsuki seems accustomed to their social predicament, content to eat quietly unless otherwise called upon.  Victor does succeed in drawing some small responses from his intended, and he treasures each small smile and polite reply while deftly avoiding young Mr. Plisetsky’s sour glares from across the table.  Let his ward cast judgement if he pleases; he knows not the true devotions of Victor’s heart.

After a brandy and a few games of bridge the Lady and Mr. Katsuki take their leave, and Victor’s mind is swimming with ideas as he offers a farewell bow.  

“I’m thinking we might cut our season short,” Victor informs Yuri before they part for bed that night, “It’s hardly a week longer we would spend in the city anyway, and I feel a longing to return to our own estate.”

“I wonder why,” his ward poses rhetorically.

“Yet we do lack a certain caliber of company without our circle of society friends,” Victor laments, “We should invite a visitor up north!  But who would be suitable?”

“It is a mystery,” Yuri agrees, rolling his eyes.  

“Aha!” Victor crows, “What of my intended, Mr. Katsuki Yuuri! We shared such stirring conversation today, why there could be no more perfect guest for us to bestow our generosity upon!”

“A surprise to us all.”

“It’s decided,” Victor declares, “I’ll send a messenger ahead of us first thing, and we will make for our estate after breakfast.  Once we arrive home I shall dispatch an invitation to Mr. Katsuki post haste!”

His mind made up, Victor sets his plans into motion, and after a light breakfast and a grateful farewell to their host he and Yuri are bundled into their carriage and bound for their lands up north.

They are only a few minutes into their journey before Victor can wait no longer.  With a careful hand he begins to draft his invitation.

 

_ My dearest Mr. Katsuki, _

_ I hope this letter finds you well!  It was a great delight to make your acquaintance over dinner this last week.  I hope you won’t find this correspondence too forward, but it was brought to my attention by our recent host Celestino that since graduating university you have been lacking in more youthful company.  Thus, it is my privilege to invite you to our home in the north for a diverting fortnight’s stay!  We are a mere day’s ride away, and with the temperate weather we’ve been enjoying I pray the journey would not be a burden to you. _

_ My estate features well kept hunting grounds and a quaint lake well suited to fishing.  I also have an exotic range of gardens and an extensive library, if that is more suited to your interests.  I found myself quite enthralled by our conversations while a guest of our mutual friend and I would love to continue them here!  My ward has also expressed an eagerness to learn more about your studies and aspirations. Two bachelors, we are most bored without some company to liven up our dinner table conversation.  If you can be spared, we are eager to play host, that we might make your more intimate acquaintance! _

_ With regards,  _

_ Your Most Humble and Obedient Servant  _

_ Victor Nikiforov _

 

“Well?” Victor waits with bated breath as Yuri proof reads his letter to Mr. Katsuki.  Yuri grumbles something under his breath as the carriage bounces over the rocky country road.

“What was that?”

Yuri glares.  “I said I don't see why you don't just put your income down in pounds sterling.  It would be shorter, and just as obvious as this embarrassing attempt to show what a prospect you are.”  

“Ack,” Victor cries, drawing his hand to his heart, “You wound me, Yuri.  As if my connection to Mr. Katsuki is based on anything but the desire for the warm clasp of friendship.”

“And his desire for the warm clasp of your fortune,” Yuri mutters.

“Siiilence!”  Victor sing songs.  “If you cannot keep a civil tongue towards our future guests, I will have no choice but to disinvite Yakov from our party, and leave your fencing skills to languish for the whole summer.”

“No!”  

Victor pulls his prickly ward into a brotherly embrace, ruffling his hair unmercifully.

  
“Yes!” He vows.  “So brush up on your etiquette, Mr. Plisetsky.  We may soon play host to my future spouse!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, Victor is the most Extra, and perfectly suited to Regency era fits of romance.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this quick little chapter, but it felt disconnected from the scene coming next and it helps me to keep my momentum up when I can post what I have finished. More to come soon!

Victor languishes for nearly three days before he receives a response from his intended.  When the letter finally arrives he locks himself in his study before clutching the small envelope to his chest, excitement and nerves warring within him.  Will Katsuki Yuuri come, or is Victor to be devastated by a polite refusal? 

He cannot wait another moment to know.  With a trembling hand Victor breaks the simple wax seal and reads the neat script contained within.

 

_ Dear Mr. Nikiforov, _

_ I was quite surprised to receive your letter, but nonetheless honored.  It would be my pleasure to accept your most generous offer.  I am certain the amenities of your great estate will be well beyond my standards.  I am not a great sportsman, but I do enjoy a healthy stroll outdoors and I have some small skill at fencing, which I learned at dinner last week is a favorite pastime of yours.  I only hope I can provide the conversation you and your ward feel is lacking at your table.  I am told by most that I am quite uninteresting, and thus your attentions come as a most pleasant surprise. _

_ I am at your service, _

_ Mr. Yuuri Katsuki _

 

“Yes!” Victor crows, pressing a fervent kiss to the signature of his beloved.  He will have his chance to win Mr. Katsuki’s heart anew.  Immediately he rings the bell for his butler and housekeeper.  There are so many preparations to be made, and so little time!  They must plan a menu, and ready their finest guest suite, and...and re-trim all the hedges in the garden.  Victor will give Katsuki Yuuri the perfect welcome, and then he will never wish to leave!


	6. Chapter 6

When the day of Katsuki Yuuri’s arrival finally dawns Victor is waiting on the marble steps of his country house the moment he is dressed.  Only moments ago he dispatched his driver to the local village, where Mr. Katsuki is due to arrive on the morning post.  They won’t be due back for an hour yet, but Victor can hardly occupy himself with other matters knowing his intended is on his way to his residence at this very moment. He is all a flutter with nerves, despite wearing his most favorite day coat for good luck.  Even the snug fit of the pale grey velvet to his figure cannot give him his usual confidence.   

Some time after breakfast his ward joins him, dressed more casually but still appropriate to greet their guest.

“You’re going to catch a tan,” Yuri chides him, “Pacing about in the sun like a farmer.”

“I know the moment I step indoors he will arrive,” Victor counters, “And our guest will be left waiting on our front steps like a common solicitor.”

“As you wish.  Here.”  Yuri shoves a napkin wrapped parcel at him, and Victor is touched to find it is a stack of toast and jam.  “If you don’t eat you’ll likely faint dead away and humiliate us all.”

“An excellent foresight on your part,” Victor thanks him, nibbling on the corner of one butter and marmalade square, “And likely to make me a much better host.  Does this mean you’re warming to our Mr. Katsuki?”

“I think you are both fools,” his ward grumbles, “And thus likely well suited to each other.”

“With such a winning endorsement from my heir, how could our courtship not blossom?”  Victor laughs, though secretly he takes Yuri’s blessing for what it is.  The threat of Victor’s marriage has always been a prickly topic for young Mr. Plisetsky, being Victor’s ward and heir but not his biological issue.  Victor is constantly reassuring that he would never be cast aside, but he knows Yuri is still insecure and thus his goodwill toward this match is all the more magnanimous.  It is something of a moot point, as he and Mr. Katsuki would obviously not be producing any offspring of their own.  No, Yuri would serve quite well as the heir to the Nikiforov estate, and Victor would be content to spoil his husband.  Perhaps they will play godfathers to a houseful of orphans, if they are so paternally inclined.

Victor’s silly daydreaming is interrupted when Yuri gives him a pointed nudge.  

“He’s here,” he says, indicating a carriage arriving through their front gates, “Unless you have another guest arriving that you failed to tell me about.”

“Ack!” Victor tosses his crumb filled napkin into the bushes, and hurriedly straightens his coat.  “Ring for a valet at once, we’ll need someone to see to Mr. Katsuki’s bags,” he orders Yuri, before thinking better, “Wait!”

“What?” Yuri demands.  Victor holds out his arms for Yuri’s inspection.  

“How do I look?” 

“Like a lovestruck dolt.”

“Perfect,” Victor declares, “Then he’ll recognize my intentions at once.”

Mr. Plisetsky rolls his eyes but steps inside to summon a valet as Victor’s carriage bounces up the neat gravel road that loops around the front of the mansion.

It seems a lifetime before the the horse and carriage finally rolls to a stop before the wide stairs to the front entrance.  The driver bids Victor a respectful good morning before opening the carriage door and revealing their slightly rumpled guest within.  Victor steps forward to offer Mr. Katsuki a hand down from the high carriage, leaving the driver to unload a more modest amount of luggage than Victor could possibly imagine for a two week stay.   

All thought of Katsuki Yuuri’s bags is forgotten when the gentleman himself rises from his seat, emerging into the warm morning light with a curious expression that cheers when he spots Victor waiting to assist him.  His plain brown jacket is brightened by a deep blue waistcoat that does well for his complexion, and he carries a pair of black gloves that are quite unnecessary in this mild weather.  Victor has to stifle a sigh of longing when his intended places his bare hand into Victor’s own with a warm smile.

“Mr. Katsuki,” Victor greets him, offering an elegant bow once he’s stepped safely to the ground, “You are most welcome.”

Mr. Katsuki bows in return.  “Thank you for your kind invitation, Mr. Nikiforov.”

“I trust your trip was not too strenuous?”  

“Not at all, though I’m grateful for the use of your carriage.  It would have been a bit much to walk from the post, even for me.”

Victor laughs.  “I would hardly have left a guest of house Nikiforov to carry their luggage on foot.”

He spots the valet arrived to take Mr. Katsuki’s luggage, and Yuri returned with him.  He walks Mr. Katsuki up the steps to reintroduce them.  

“You remember my ward, Mr. Yuri Plisetsky,” Victor reminds him as the two young men exchange bows.  “Yuri is quite glad you’ve agreed to visit with us, aren’t you, Yuri?”

“I’m very glad,” Yuri agrees readily, to Victor’s surprise.  

“Ever since Victor sent his invitation he’s been abusing us all with his incessant pining.”

Ah, there’s the Yuri Victor has grown accustomed to.  He elbows his ward firmly in the side as Katsuki falters.

“Um---”

“Master Plisetsky was just telling me how  _ engrossed  _ he was in his atlas before you arrived,” Victor says pointedly, “I’m sure Mr. Katsuki would forgive you returning to your studies, hm?  Your tutor will be so  _ eager  _ to see your progress when he arrives next week.”

“Oh, um, of course,” Mr. Katsuki agrees, “It’s good to see you again Mr. Plisetsky.”

Yuri’s glare is mutinous, but he only offers Mr. Katsuki another short bow before vanishing to his rooms.

“You’ll have to forgive my ward,” Victor apologizes once Yuri is out of sight, “He’s full of the wit and vinegar of youth, I’m afraid.”

“You’re very dedicated to him,” Katsuki observes.  

“His mother was a very dear friend,” Victor replies, politely vague, “And Yuri like a little brother.  Frequently vexing, but beloved nonetheless.”

“I’m sure.”  Is it Victor’s imagination, or does he detect a note of fondness in Mr. Katsuki’s gaze?  Perhaps even admiration?  

It’s several seconds before Victor realizes they’ve simply been staring at each other in silence since he last spoke.  

“Ah, forgive me, you my guest and I’ve kept you standing on my front steps all this time,” Victor apologizes, “Please, step inside.” 

They leave the driver and valet to handle Mr. Katsuki’s bags and step across the threshold together.

“I won’t exhaust you with a full tour,” Victor explains as the oak doors close behind them with a secure  _ thud, _ “But there are several rooms I think you might find--”

“Oh.”

Victor pauses to find Katsuki has frozen in his entranceway.  His eyes are wide, and he grips his gloves tightly as he takes in the foyer, all gilt furnishings and polished marble floors.  The morning light floods in through the ice pale stained glass windows that frame the grand staircase, illuminating the crystal chandelier and frescoed ceilings.  

“My ancestors certainly had taste,” Victor observes aloud, attempting for some levity. He hardly finds the view intimidating, but then he supposes when you spend your childhood years sliding down the banisters with your wooden sword the staircases lose some of their forbidding grandeur.

“It’s beautiful,” Mr. Katsuki agrees, then more quietly, “Like a fairytale.”

“Hm,” Victor muses, secretly flattered, “But terribly drafty in the winter months.”

That surprises a weak grin from Mr. Katsuki, and Victor feels a little thrill of triumph.  

“Can I show you to the parlor?” he asks, “My staff will see your things to their proper place.”

“Certainly.”

The morning parlor is less overwhelming in its architecture, and Victor is happy to see Mr. Katsuki more comfortable in the more personally furnished sitting room.  The warm wood and velvet finishes make it a desirable spot to gather after breakfast, and Victor enjoys spending time here himself, even when he isn’t playing host.  

“And who is this handsome gentleman?” Mr. Katsuki asks suddenly, and Victor endures a frightful moment of jealousy before he realizes Katsuki is referring to Makkachin _.   _ Victor’s prize hunting dog is putting on quite the show where he lies in front of the fireplace, tail wagging and practically begging for belly scratches.  Mr. Katsuki seems more than happy to oblige him, taking a knee on the persian rug to pet the poodle with a grin.  

“You’ve found the true master of the house,” Victor says with good humor, “Makkachin is my finest bird dog.  My family has raised his breed for five generations.”

“He’s wonderful,” Katsuki declares, giving Makkachin a good scratch behind the ears, “My family once had a dog just like him--”

All at once Katsuki Yuuri seems to realize his position, practically sitting on the floor in the middle of Victor’s parlor to pet his dog, and he grows pale as he scrambles to his feet.  

“Forgive me,” he stammers, “How rude, I hardly thought-”

“Think nothing of it,” Victor insists, summoning Makkachin to his side with a soft tap on his thigh, “You are my guest of honor, Mr. Katsuki. I would be flattered to have you feel at home here.”

Makkachin follows them to the library, and Victor is relieved to see Mr. Katsuki grin when the poodle noses at his hand for more attention.  He should have known he could count on his most loyal companion to aid in his courtship efforts.  

After the parlor Victor walks his guest through the grand ballroom, the library, and his study.  Mr. Katsuki spends some long minutes admiring the lifesize portrait of Victor hung over the mantelpiece in the main dining room, during which Victor is surprised to find himself quite self-conscious.  It’s hardly unusual to display a portrait of the master of the house, but Victor worries Katsuki Yuuri must think him an awful vanity.  When he finally offers his opinion of the painting however it is only to compliment the remarkable likeness of Makkachin curled at Victor’s feet.  Victor is unsure whether to feel relieved or put out that Mr. Katsuki failed to comment on  _ his _ likeness.

Victor is about to suggest a tour of their outdoor gardens when their conversation is interrupted by a servant.  

“Sir, Master Plisetsky is looking for you in the gymnasium.  He says to remind you of your promised match this afternoon.” 

Victor winces.  Has it been so much time already? “Yes, I’d quite forgotten,” he admits, “But I can hardly leave my guest when he’s only just arrived.”

“I don’t mind-” Katsuki looks uncomfortable again, and Victor curses his own absent mindedness.

“Nonsense,” he insists, “Tell Master Plisetsky that we’ll have to reschedule for another--”

“Please, don’t change your plans on my account,” Katsuki implores him, “I hate to be an inconvenience when you’ve opened your home so generously.”

“You could join us,” Victor offers, mind suddenly awhirl with the image of Katsuki Yuuri in a well fitted uniform, foil at the ready, “I have plenty of equipment, if you haven’t brought-"

“Ah, thank you,” Katsuki replies, looking flustered, “But perhaps I might take a short rest?  My journey was long, and I fear I would be ill company on the field.”

“Of course, I hadn’t considered.” Stifling his disappointment, Victor send the messenger back from whence he came to assure Yuri of his impending arrival, and calls the attention of a servant waiting by the door.  “My footman will show you to your suite.  If there is anything that can be done to make your stay more comfortable, I am at your service.”

“Thank you,” Katsuki says again with a bow of his head, “Please don’t mistake my fatigue for reluctance, Mr. Nikiforov.  I am most glad to be in your company once again.”

“And I in yours, Mr. Katsuki,” Victor agrees, heart alight, “Until dinner.”

“Until dinner.”

Victor manages to withhold his besotted sigh until Katsuki Yuuri has followed his footman out of the room.  Makkachin whines, pushing his cold nose into Victor’s hand.  

“Good boy,” Victor praises him with a hearty ear scratch, “Why don’t you go with him?  You can keep my intended company while I teach our young Master Plisetsky some manners on the fencing field.”

  
Makkachin offers an agreeable bark, and he bounds off after their guest as Victor makes for the gymnasium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much bowing.....but soon, romance!!


	7. Chapter 7

“Ha!  Another touch!” 

“Yes, yes, Master Plisetsky, well placed,” Victor cedes, ignoring his smarting shoulder as he resumes a starting position.  Despite the thick material of their uniforms a fencing touch is still a firm prod with a dull needle, and Yuri is eager to prove himself.  

“Despite your excellent point I’ll remind you the match is still fourteen to nine, in my favor.”

“Then let’s get on with it,” Yuri urges, in ready position.  Victor grins.

“En garde!”

The clash and slide of their blades resonates in the high ceilings of the gymnasium.  Victor had made few changes to Castle Nikiforov since he became lord, but even a great estate like his own has no need for  _ two  _ ballrooms in this modern age.  With a few renovations the lesser hall had been converted into a  _ salle _ fit for a king, and Victor and Yuri able to continue their fencing practice in a manner befitting well bred gentlemen like themselves.  

“Yakov has been teaching you well,” Victor praises his opponent as he parries a well placed coulé, “But I was the student of Angelo himself.  The italian master shall not be bested so easily!”

“I’ll put you on your ass, old man,” Yuri retorts with a fierce grin, manners forgotten in the heat of a match.  Victor grins in return and begins his counter-attack.

Advance.  Attack.  Parry.  Riposte.  Passé.  Their exchange is rapid and well-matched.  Victor has the polished technique but Yuri has the footwork and, admittedly, youth in his favor.  It won’t be many years before his ward surpasses him, and what a glorious day that will be.   

However that day is not  _ this  _ day.  With a surprise feint Victor finds his opening, and Yuri Plisetsky finds a gentle poke between his ribs.

“Aha! That’s fifteen points, Master Plisetsky,” Victor crows, catching his breath, “The match is mine!”  

Victor is surprised, when his heart settles, to find the sound of applause echoing through the chamber.  He turns, and who does he find clapping but Katsuki Yuuri!  It appears he hasn't yet changed for dinner, but it would seem his jacket was pressed while he rested, and a fresh cravat adds some lace at his throat.

“Mr. Katsuki! How wonderful to have you join us,” Victor declares, offering a salute with his blade, “I trust you are quite refreshed from your nap?”

“I am, thank you,” Katsuki replies.

“We didn’t think we would enjoy your company until dinner.  I hope there’s nothing amiss with your rooms?”

“Not at all, they are more than satisfactory,” Mr. Katsuki promises, “I am here as a messenger on behalf of your housekeeper.”

“She sent you?” Victor inquires, aghast, “I certainly hope you aren’t being coerced into service by my staff, sir.  I would feel a poor host indeed.”

“By no means,” Katsuki assures him, “She appeared quite appalled by the suggestion, but I volunteered myself.  I had heard of your great skill with a foil, and I thought I might see the evidence with my own eyes.”

Reassured as to the propriety of his staff, Victor preens under Mr. Katsuki’s roving gaze.  He is not ignorant of the flattering fit of his uniform, the white high collared waistcoat quite snug and much more revealing of his figure than his usual daytime attire.  

“And do you like what you see, Mr. Katsuki?” Victor asks, allowing the barest hint of entendre in his tone as he strikes a well placed en garde.  As expected, his intended is flustered once again, but he gathers himself with a response that sets Victor’s pulse racing.  

“Indeed,” Katsuki responds, fumbling with the chain of his brass pocket watch, “As I was told, Mr. Nikiforov, your form is...most impressive.”

Delighted to have his flirtatious exchanged returned, Victor silently curses when his ward interrupts.  

“What message do you bring, Mr. Katsuki?” Yuri asks pointedly, foil tucked beneath his arm as he removes his gloves, “Or do you come only as a voyeur?” 

“Ah, no,” Katsuki Yuuri agrees, “I’m told dinner is ready whenever it suits you.”

Victor drops his fencing pose, confused.  “So early?”

“Well, it is nearly--” Katsuki glances at his watch “Five o’clock."

“So it is,” Victor realizes, mortified, “I must have lost track of the time  How thoughtless.”

“It’s no trouble,” Mr. Katsuki assures him, “I can wait a few extra minutes.”

“Yes, forgive me, we’ll change at once.”  Victor passes off his foil to be cleaned and returned to it’s proper case.  “Please, feel free to avail yourself of my library while I dress.  I will only be a moment.”  
  
  


* * *

 

 

Changed into acceptable dinner attire so swiftly his valet can hardly keep up, Victor makes his way to the library with hardly a glance at his reflection.  He can only pray his hair, still mussed from his exertion on the fencing field, will be interpreted as fashionably unkempt and not simply bedraggled.  

To his relief he finds his intended perfectly content in the library, perched on a settee with one of Victor’s first editions.  So engrossed is he that Mr. Katsuki does not notice Victor’s presence until he is nearly on top of him.    

“Eros and Psyche,” Victor notes, glancing over Mr. Katsuki’s shoulder, “And intriguing choice.”

“It is a favored diversion of mine,” he replies, pleasantly surprised but not unnerved by Victor’s sudden appearance, “A god bestows his love upon a mortal, but it is the mortal’s struggles in the end which prove the strength of their union.” 

Katsuki tilts his head up to seek Victor’s opinion on the matter, and resting on the bridge of his nose is the most charming pair of spectacles.  They magnify Mr. Katsuki’s eyes in such a becoming manner Victor fears he may be lost in their sepia depths.

“Just so, Mr. Katsuki,” Victor agrees, mesmerized.  At length he offers his arm with a short bow.  “Might I escort you into dinner?”

“Right, of course.”  Mr. Katsuki tucks away his glasses and takes Victor’s elbow as he rises from the sofa, his reading forgotten. “Lead the way, Mr. Nikiforov.”

“With pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *salle: a fencing field  
> coule, advance, parry, riposte, passe: all fencing moves, the details of which I can't explain except that they make really cool swishing sounds with fancy swords  
> Angelo: refers to Domenico Angelo, a legendary Italian fencing master, started one of the first fencing schools for the aristocracy in England and was fencing instructor to the British Royal Family
> 
> more soon! These boys had to get to know each other a little before I could jump straight to the action ;)


	8. Chapter 8

The next three days are some of the happiest and most frustrating of Victor’s life.  Dinner, breakfast, long walks over the lush grounds of Victor’s estate, all are spent in the most captivating and confusing company of Mr. Katsuki Yuuri.  

They are quite well matched in their studies, and in the first few days of Katsuki’s visit he and Victor spend hours in the library discussing their favorite readings.  Mr. Katsuki practically glows as they discover their mutual interests in art and literature, but the moment Victor attempts to pay a compliment or make some small advance his intended is immediately overcome with stammering nerves.  He would almost think his attentions unwanted, if it were not for the few... _ magical _ moments when his attempts at flirtation are met not with confusion and discomfort, but with reciprocation.  It is in those precious moments that Victor spies beneath the polite, endearing facade of Mr. Katsuki the sharp and sparking seductor that first took hold of his heart at Celestino’s ball. 

This is no case of Jekyll and Hyde.  Katsuki Yuuri is simply a man of hidden depths, equally capable of quick wit and the most delicate blush.  Victor plans to spend a lifetime earning those soft blushes.  He will covet each and every one.

Victor bides his time most patiently until dinner on the fourth day of Mr. Katsuki’s visit.  It has been a most pleasant meal, with Katsuki finally eating and joining in on conversation as though he is among friends and not a guest at a hotel.  Even Yuri has proven himself capable of civility this evening, his witticisms lighting up Victor and Katsuki both with mirth as they move through the night’s courses.  

Victor dares to think this is what it might be like to have a family of his own.

“The night is mild, Mr. Katsuki, and I’ve always found my rose garden to be most beautiful under the stars,” Victor suggests, once their dessert plates have been cleared, “Might I convince you to take a stroll with me?”

Yuri has already excused himself in favor of his studies, but the evening is young.  Mr. Katsuki smiles, clearly pleased.  “I’d be delighted.” 

Victor feels a frisson of warmth beneath his breastbone.  This night might finally present his chance.  

A few minutes later finds them walking side by side, the well trimmed path lit by a few flickering lanterns.  Their shared silence is companionable, as Katsuki Yuuri admires the first bloom of the rose bushes and Victor searches for the right words to reveal his heart to his intended.   

“Oh my.”  Mr. Katsuki is quite taken with a cluster of Mother of Pearls, their white petals nearly blue in the twilight.  Indeed there are far more blossoms than Victor expected at this time of year, and the high reaching trellises seem full of starlight where they stretch overhead.

“Are they to your liking?” Victor inquires.  

“They’re beautiful,” Katsuki Yuuri breathes, eyes soft.

“Roses were my mother’s pride,” Victor reveals, caressing one delicate blossom, “I preserve them in her memory.”

“You must keep an excellent gardener,” Mr. Katsuki compliments him, “Roses are notoriously difficult.”

“Yes, but they are beautiful to look at,” Victor says, eyes only for his beloved, “And they make a lovely courting gift.  ...But of course you must be familiar with that practice already.”

A little furrow of uncertainty appears between Mr. Katsuki’s brows.  “I’m afraid I don’t have a rose garden appropriate to bestow such gifts.”

Victor laughs.  “I meant as a recipient, of course.”

“I am hardly the target of any suitors,” Mr. Katsuki demurs.  

_ And how is such a thing possible _ , Victor thinks,  _ When you are the light in every room?   _

“Strange,” Victor replies aloud, spotting his opportunity despite the objection of his nerves, “For I have it on expert account that you are the target of at _least_ one.”

It makes him ache to see Mr. Katsuki so surprised.  “Who...”  

Victor can only offer himself, hand over his heart and head bowed. 

A gasp.  “ _ You _ ?” 

“It must be obvious by now,” Victor says, carefully taking Katsuki Yuuri’s hand in his own, “That in the short time of our acquaintance I have developed a very...ardent affection for you."

Katsuki freezes, and Victor sees his eyes have grown quite round.  “A-affection?”

“Indeed, I find your character admirable, and your temperament agreeable,” Victor continues, “And there is no denying the attraction I feel to your most handsome person, especially---oh.  I say, Mr. Katsuki, are you well?” 

In his twenty-seven years on earth Victor has never seen a man grow quite so pale so quickly.  If he hadn’t known him to be hale and hearty some moments ago Victor would have thought Katsuki Yuuri to be taken by a fever.

“I’m- _ ah- _ quite well, thank you,” Katsuki assures him, though Victor tightens his grip on his gloved hand, that he might be ready to catch the young man should he actually faint.  Has he read this entire situation wrong?  Is this to be Victor’s  worst faux pas yet in this confusing mating dance?

“I had hoped…but you are more than free to reject my advances,” Victor reassures him quickly, heart in his throat, “It will have no bearing on your welcome here, nor on my opinion of your character.  Merely say the word and I will never-”

His babbling is stopped with a kiss.  Victor hardly thinks to resist when Katsuki tugs him down by his cravat, pressing their lips together in a meeting so brief he can scarcely believe it happened at all.  The moment stretches between them, as fragile as spun glass yet hotter than a forge fire.

Victor’s intended is flushed, a most pleasing pink staining his cheekbones, whether from the touch of their lips or the shock of his own boldness Victor can hardly say.  

“I have no wish to reject your advances.” 

Victor touches a fingertip to his own tingling mouth.  The sensation recalls the last time they touched so intimately.  Lips pressed to Victor’s gloved hand on the night of Celestino’s ball.  

“Mr. Katsuki, I-”

“And you may call me Yuuri.”

Overwhelmed, Katsuki,  _ Yuuri _ , bows and says a hurried goodnight.  Victor hardly has a moment to return the gesture before Yuuri is gone back to the house.  Only at the very edge of the garden does he stop to look back, bestowing upon Victor the shyest of smiles before vanishing to the proprietous safety of the indoors.

“Yuuri.”  Victor merely whispers the name, rolling the shape of it in his mouth.

  
Alone in his garden, Victor punches the air in triumph.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!


	9. Chapter 9

_ My dearest Mr. Nikiforov, _

_ Good health and prosperity unto you my friend!  I write to you with a most forward proposition (my better half is chastising me soundly as I write these very words, but then you know how I enjoy a firm dressing down~).  Mr. Giacometti and myself will be passing through your estates on our way to the highlands for an anniversary holiday, and as you are a confirmed old bachelor with nothing but fencing and a willful teenager to keep you company I thought it would be most pleasant if we were to drop by for a few day’s visit.  If this idea is not convenient, please reply at once, for we depart only two days hence!  If you are amenable to our visit, then we shall look forward to arriving at Castle Nikiforov around the luncheon hour three days from today. _

_ All best wishes, _

_ Your Obedient Etc. Etc… _

_ Lt. Christophe Giacometti _

* * *

 

“Christophe, you scoundrel,” Victor murmurs to himself with amusement as he peruses the letter.  It was just like his friend to invite himself to stay, an unforgivable offense were it anyone but Victor’s oldest acquaintance.  Despite the impropriety of its suggestion Victor does think a visit from Christophe sounds like a fine idea.  Things are quiet at the house and Victor is eager to begin introducing Yuuri to his friends, now that they are on more intimate terms with one another.  He’ll present the idea when Yuuri returns from the village. 

His intended’s specific whereabouts are quite unknown to him this morning, but Victor does not fret over it.  He’s spent the last several days in Katsuki Yuuri’s most lovely company and he is more than capable of surviving a few hours looking to his correspondence while his intended accomplishes whatever errand he sees fit to address.

He might glance out the window of his study more frequently than necessary for a sign of his beloved, but then that is no one’s business but his own.

Victor has just sat down to a late breakfast when his butler announces Yuuri’s return.  Yuuri appears to have enjoyed the a bracing walk to town and back, since he politely refused the use of Victor’s carriage this morning.  The exercise has proven very flattering, as Yuuri is bright eyed and handsomely windswept as he enters the breakfast room to offer Victor a polite bow and a very shy kiss on the cheek.  

“Good morning, Yuuri,” Victor murmurs between them.  

“Good morning...Victor,” Yuuri replies, still endearingly hesitant in his use of Victor’s given name, “I hope you haven’t been waiting to eat on my account.”

“Not at all,” Victor assures him, “I had some letters to see to so I’ve only just sat down.  Please, join me.”

Yuuri acquiesces readily and they enjoy some eggs and toast before Victor remembers an extra piece of mail he’d received.

“I’d nearly forgotten,” he apologizes, looking through the mail he'd answered earlier, “You had a letter this morning.”

"Oh?”  Yuuri glances at the sender’s address and his expression brightens.  “Oh, it's from Phichit!  One of my friends from school.  My parents must have forwarded it.”

Yuuri looks uncertainly to their half-eaten plates.  “Do you mind terribly if I-”

“Please,” Victor urges, offering his unused butter knife as a makeshift letter opener, which Yuuri accepts gratefully.  Victor enjoys his eggs as Yuuri unfolds his letter and begins to read.  It's all terribly domestic, and Victor feels a little wriggle of joy until he sees Yuuri’s face fall.

“Have you received some bad news?” Victor inquires, “You suddenly look quite ill.”

“Oh, no I'm not ill at all,” Yuuri assures him, “It's just an unfortunate bit of timing on Phichit’s part.  You see, he and a few of my acquaintances from university are on something of a tour of the north, and they thought to call on me when they visited with Celestino.”  

“Ah, I see.  You are obviously not there.”  

“Yes.  Though, may I say I find myself quite content where I am, at the moment.”  

Victor takes that simple sign of affection to his heart with joy, basking in Katsuki Yuuri’s warmth as he pulls his hand briefly to his lips.

“Ahem, yes, quite,” Yuuri continues, with the softest of smiles, “Anyway, it would have been nice to see my schoolmates again, but there will be other opportunities.”

“Nonsense, the solution is simple,” Victor intervenes, “I have plenty of space, and the expense would be no matter. You should invite them here.”

Yuuri looks scandalized.  “What?!  Victor, I couldn't possibly impose on your hospitality in such a manner.”

“On the contrary, I would be delighted,” Victor assures him, brandishing Christophe’s letter, “I’ve just received word from a dear friend of my own that he and his husband will be joining us for a few days.  Between my friends and yours I think we’ve found the makings of a merry party.  How many will be joining us?”

“Well, there's Phichit--excuse me, Mr. Chulanont,” Yuuri says, scanning the letter again, “A Mr. Altin, and a Mr. Leroy with his fiancée and her friend Miss Crispino as chaperone.”

“That’s five,” Victor counts aloud, “With Christophe and his spouse it will be seven and with you, Yuri, and myself we shall have ten.  I think that seems a very pleasant number, and a nice mix of couples and unattached persons for conversation.”

“...are you quite sure it wouldn't be an inconvenience?” Yuuri still looks uncertain, but Victor can see the enthusiasm building for the idea.

“Indeed,” Victor continues, “I’ll hire in a few musicians, and we shall have a lovely late supper after some dancing and drinks.”

“If you’re certain,” Yuuri ascertains.

“I am,” Victor promises, “And if I am very fortunate, perhaps a handsome young man might even reserve my company for a dance.”

Yuuri colors in a most fetching manner.  “I'm certain there will be at least one very humble person who will make that attempt,” he says, “If you don't mind, I'll respond to Phichit right away.”

“Of course.”  

Their dishes are cleared and Yuuri gathers up his friend’s letter to head for the library, no doubt.

“Yuuri?”  It still sends a little thrill of his own down his spine to call his intended by his given name.  The manner of Yuuri’s expression when he turns back to meet Victor’s inquiry indicates a similar feeling.  

“Yuri will be engaged with his tutors through dinner, on some sort of exam,” Victor reveals, “I thought we might make our evening meal a sort of late afternoon picnic?  We could take some sandwiches out to the main garden perhaps.  Just you and I, and maybe Makkachin to serve as chaperone.”

Yuuri steps in close again and bends to press a kiss to Victor’s cheek.  “That sounds delightful.”

 

* * *

 

They are graced with fine weather, and sometime later in the afternoon finds Victor Nikiforov and Katsuki Yuuri spread out quite comfortably on a festive blanket, a plate of sandwiches and a bottle of wine shared between them.  They are neither of them impaired by drink, but inhabiting the slight loosening of propriety enjoyed by lovers who are alone and have partaken in more than one glass of a nice cabernet.  Still buttoned into their jackets and waistcoats Victor nonetheless finds the air between them to be quite intimate, and he feels little worry when he moves to rest his head in Yuuri’s lap.

His boldness is rewarded when rather than pushing him away, Katsuki Yuuri instead bends to kiss his brow, and pet his hair.

“Mm, that feels lovely, Yuuri,” Victor purrs, tilting his brow to better accommodate the drag of his beloved’s fingers through his silver locks.  

“I still can't believe that you wish to so much as look at me,” Yuuri confesses.

“As if I could look away,” Victor replied, reaching up to brush his thumb over Yuuri’s lower lip.  His intended smiles.

“Even now some part of me believes you must be mocking me,” he admits, despite Victor's immediate objection, “You are so...remarkable.  And we are hardly a match in looks.”

“My word, what a compliment,” Victor declares with a grin, catching Yuuri’s hand to bestow a kiss upon his knuckles, “I take it you find me somewhat handsome then?”

“No,” Yuuri replies, but before Victor can take offense, “I find you to be the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”

Taken aback by such a declaration, Victor can only smile and press another kiss to his beloved’s fingers.

“I have something for you,” Yuuri murmurs, “A gift.”

Of course, Victor’s interest is piqued and he sits up.  “A present?”

“Yes.”  Yuri pulls a slim box from his jacket pocket.  “I found it in town this morning and I could only think of you.  Of my…my very deep regard for you.”

“Yuuri…” Victor can hardly breath as Yuuri removes the lid from the velvet box to reveal a gold ring.  It's plain, and thin, obviously second hand.  He likely found it in some dusty shop in the village.  

It's the most beautiful thing Victor has ever seen.  Such a gift can only have one meaning. 

“I know I haven't the same deep pockets as you,” Yuuri stammers, “But I wanted to give you something.  Something solely of my own means.” 

“It’s perfection,” Victor declares, eyes wet with happy tears, “I can think of no gift I would prefer, and no person I would prefer to receive it from.”

“Really?”  Yuuri’s innocent surprise at the fervor of Victor’s affection is still a source aching joy, but he pays it no mind.  He will have a lifetime to assure Yuuri of his affections. 

“Yes, yes, my love,” Victor pleads, pulling the glove from his right hand, “Let me wear it now, I beg you.”

Wordless, Yuuri pulls the ring from its box, and when Victor offers his shaking hand slides the ring onto its proper place.  By some miracle, it’s a perfect fit.  

“Let it be a promise of devotion between us,” Victor breathes, bending to kiss the ring where it glints on his finger.

Yuuri’s hand trembles where he clasps Victor’s own but he nods, the most delicate smile gracing his lips.

“Yes?”  Victor ascertains.  He wants to have absolute certainty of his beloved.  

Yuuri looks briefly puzzled, but at length he replies, “Certainly, yes.”

Victor fears his heart may burst with the intensity of his happiness, so overjoyed is he to have a concrete understanding with his intended. 

At long last Victor Nikiforov is to take a husband, and he didn’t even have to do the asking.

“Kiss me, Yuuri?” Victor entreats.  Yuuri laughs, stroking his fingers through Victor’s hair once more.

“I believe I was the one who took the first initiative in that regard,” Yuuri says, “Perhaps it should be you to kiss  _ me _ .”

Victor draws his knuckles down his fiancé’s cheek, admiring the shine of his ring against the warmth of Yuuri’s lovely countenance.  

“You’ll hardly have to ask me twice.”

Victor draws Yuuri into a kiss, and his joy is complete.

 

* * *

  
  


_ My dear Lt. Giacometti, _

_ Tell your dear husband he must not fear so for propriety, for I am an uncouth and ill-mannered scoundrel who cares not whether his friends ask permission before appearing on his doorstep.  Of course you are most welcome!  In fact it appears I will play host to several guests this week, and fortune allowing we may even have enough for a passable dinner party, so do brush up that striking uniform of yours.   _

_ However, as to my status as a “confirmed old bachelor”, as you do charmingly put it, I must share a most startling and joyful development (which must be kept in absolute confidence, my dear Christophe!). You see... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the joys of an unreliable narrator...  
> ~~wicked cackling~~~  
> Stay tuned for a lovely dinner party and some very improprietous behavior just out of sight!
> 
> P.S. just to clarify a piece of Regency vocab, when a couple has an "understanding" with each other, it is essentially an unofficial engagement, i.e. the promise that they will eventually marry.


	10. Chapter 10

Victor’s dinner party proves a resounding success, and if it doesn’t he is far too engrossed in his fiancé to notice.  They are on the dance floor together again, Yuuri back in the navy blue velvet of their first meeting, and Victor subtly dressed to his pair with his intended in a matching waistcoat.  Yuuri is leading him in the waltz, their hands joined in front and behind as they step and turn gracefully in three quarter time.   

“I knew you to be a divine dancer, Mr. Katsuki,” Victor says, playing at formality since they are among other guests, “But indeed I fear I may ascend to the heavens themselves, so happy am I to be entwined with you for even just the length of this waltz.”

“The feeling is entirely mutual, Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri replies, eyes alight, “Though we are hardly so intimately entangled as you make it seem.”

“It is always a delight to be in your arms,” Victor murmurs, just audible over the melodic hum of the string trio, “However proprietous the occasion might be.”  

At length the music comes to a pause as the waltz is completed, and Victor offers his partner the customary bow.  Yuuri returns it, eyes locked on Victor’s own in a manner that sets Victor’s heart fluttering most pleasantly.

Yuuri is exquisite tonight.  He has hardly sat out a dance the whole evening so far, and surrounded by his friends his anxiety has all but vanished.  Victor is entranced.  They have already danced together three times at Yuuri’s behest, and would likely have done many more times if Victor were not determined to play the attentive host.  After all, this night is also his chance to make a positive impression on Yuuri’s friends, especially the young Mr. Chulanont, who based on Victor’s observation seems to hold a nearly brotherly place in Yuuri’s heart. 

It hasn’t been worth the time Victor spent worrying over it, as Mr. Chulanont has proven agreeable to the extreme.

“You are so generous to host us all, Mr. Nikiforov,” he gushes for at least the third time that evening when Victor finds him by the punchbowl, “And on such short notice!”

“It is nothing, sir,” Victor assures him, “Any friends of my dear Mr. Katsuki will always be welcome in my house.”

“We were all quite shocked when we were invited,” Mr. Chulanont admits excitedly, “But then, Katuski Yuuri was always the best of us all.  It’s only fitting that he would make such a close acquaintance with an excellent gentleman like yourself.”   

“You flatter me unnecessarily,” Victor demurs, “But I can wholeheartedly agree that Mr. Katsuki is indeed the best of men.”

“That is well.”  Mr. Chulanont offers him a conspiratory wink.  “For I can see he thinks the same of you.  And you certainly look well together, if it’s not too forward of me to say.” 

Victor is spared responding to Mr. Chulanont’s well meaning if unnecessary matchmaking by Miss Crispino, who summons the young man to be her partner in the quadrille that’s just beginning.  They are joined by Mr. Leroy, and Miss Yang his fianceé, who are both seem amiable thus far, except for their total interest in only each other.  Then again, Victor is hardly one to be seen throwing stones in that regard.  The small dance floor is filled out nicely by his own Yuuri and Christophe’s husband while their respective romantic partners enjoy a libation.

“Jealousy is very unbecoming on you, Victor,” Christophe warns as he approaches the punchbowl, a wink making his good humor clear, “I could hardly let my dear husband remain a wallflower all night, and young Mr. Katsuki was good enough to aid in my efforts.”

“Such an ugly emotion had never crossed my mind,” Victor assures him, serving his friend a froth filled crystal glass, “I was merely ruminating on what fortunate men we both are.”

“Indeed.  You have found yourself a fitting romance, Victor,” Christophe teases, “‘Lord of ancient estate pursues village youth.’  You could publish quite the novel and make a second fortune.”

“You make it sound so tasteless, my friend,” Victor laments, but Christophe merely shrugs.

“Taste is no issue here. You have the money to marry whomever you wish, and no family to disapprove of the connection.   _ His  _ parents could hardly pose an objection to the match.  You said in your letter that you have an understanding?”

Victor knows he must look quite the fool, a besotted blush on his cheeks as he nods.  With a secretive grin he tugs off his white glove just enough to show his friend the sparkle of the gold ring on his right hand.  

“He gifted it to me only three days ago,” Victor confides. Christophe hums appreciatively.  

“Bold indeed.”

Victor smiles.  “And yet he is plagued by the most endearing reticence.  I imagine it will be some time before we’re ready to make any kind of public announcement.” 

“Say no more,” Chris promises with a wink, “Mr. Katsuki will not be subjected to society gossip on my account.”

They watch the dancers in companionable silence, admiring the delicate footwork of their friends both new and old until the music falls to another hush and the quadrille is over. 

“Speaking of Mr. Katsuki,” Christophe says, pointing Victor towards his intended, “I think he may be trying to get your attention.”

Victor glances in the indicated direction to see Yuuri has indeed snuck away from the dance floor quite gracefully, and is trying to catch Victor’s eye as he makes for the entrance to the library.

Even as Yuuri vanishes through the heavy oak doors with one more imploring glance, Victor also spots his other Yuri, at long last.  He and the young Mr. Altin have well sequestered themselves away from the musicians in one corner of the hall.  They appear to be doing little other than sharing a stony silence and a plate of hors d'oeuvres between them, but still...

“I should see on what matter Mr. Katsuki requires my attention, but keep one eye out for my ward, would you?” Victor asks before he goes.  Christophe nods.

“He and Mr. Altin seem to have hit it off,” he observes knowingly.  

“Indeed.  They seem to be bonding over their mutual distaste for dancing and generally being agreeable.  I’m more than glad for Yuri to be making a friend nearer his own age…” 

“But you will be glad to see Mr. Altin does not forget himself.”

“Just so, my friend.”

Victor crosses the room to follow his beloved in to the library.  As soon as the heavy door is closed behind him the cheerful sound of the hall falls away, and he is enshrouded in the warm, intimate darkness of the dimly lit room.  He becomes very conscious of himself, the beat of his heart and the hush of his breath.  He becomes all too aware of the longing he has felt for his Yuuri all night, since they first stepped onto the dance floor together.

Now that they are promised to one another Victor frequently thinks to ask Yuuri to his bed.  Now that they are promised to one another Victor frequently thinks to ask Yuuri a great  _ many  _ things, but he refrains.  Just because they are two men does not mean Yuuri is not owed the same respect Victor would give to a fianceé before they were joined as man and wife.  Kisses, soft touches, these things are less forbidden, and Victor is only a mortal man.  But any more than that, Victor is content to wait until they sleep beside one another as spouses.

That is not to say the temptation is not very great, especially in times such as these, when Yuuri looks so beautiful, the long line of him on elegant display where he leans against the pianoforte.  Victor makes so bold as to lay a hand on Yuuri’s waist as he approaches, dares to lay a kiss to the soft velvet that covers his shoulders. 

“By god, you cut a stirring figure,” Victor sighs into the crux of Yuuri’s neck and shoulder, “I swear, the very sight of you sets me brimful of passions I can’t even begin to name.”

Yuuri sighs happily and allows Victor close, to rest his forehead against his temple, and slip his arm more firmly about his middle.  

“What is it you would speak to me about in private, hm?” Victor murmurs.  Yuuri turns so they are face to face.

“This.”  With a gentle hand Yuuri cups Victor’s cheek and guides him down into a kiss, which Victor is eager to return.  Despite the success of their party, the politeness and reserve required of him after so many days of Yuuri’s free and intimate company has been trying.  In the blessed quiet, disturbed only by the muffled string quartet and conversations on the other side of the library door, Victor allows himself the warmth of Yuuri’s affection, pressing their lips together again and again with a joyful sigh of his own.  Yuuri hums, the sweetest rumble of pleasure in his chest, and Victor can only pull him closer, press a firm hand to his intended’s lower back and part his lips--

“--I am being crassly forward,” Victor chastises himself, stepping back, “Forgive me, Yuuri--”

He is stopped by a desperate grip at the lapels of his coat.

“Please don’t stop,” his beloved implores, eyes dark with need, “Please touch me again.”  

Victor breath comes quite short, thrumming desire nearly setting him aflame.  He takes Yuuri back into his arms, his lover’s back pressed firm against the pianoforte.  He kisses him, once, twice, and on the third he dares to part his lips again, as plain and desperate an invitation as he can offer.

Victor cannot withhold a low, breathy whimper when he feels the touch of Yuuri’s tongue to his bottom lip.  It’s  _ obscene _ .  The layers of clothing between them are meaningless.  Shirt, waistcoat, dinner jacket, the thick velvet and brocade may as well be gossamer, for all they keep the heat of Yuuri’s body from reaching Victor’s own; for all they prevent him learning the fit shape and soft lines of him.  Victor presses them closer still and shudders to feel the hot press of Yuuri’s arousal through their trousers.

“Oh, my Yuuri,” Victor groans, a touch too loud in the quiet room.  He can barely keep his wits, so full are his senses with the man in his arms. 

“S-someone might hear,” Yuuri stammers, though his hands remain fisted tight in Victor’s jacket front.

“I care not.”  Indeed Victor would walk back out to the dining hall with pride and make their connection known this very moment, if he did not think Yuuri would faint dead away from the impropriety of it.

“If your friend were to find me with you like this-”

“I. Care. Not.” Victor repeats, taking another kiss from Yuuri’s soft, soft mouth.  He shifts them against one another, just enough to ensure Yuuri can feel Victor’s matching ardor.  “My friends know of my intentions toward you.  Even if they did not--”

Victor kisses an amorous trail to the sweet place behind the square of Yuuri’s jaw, nose full of his intended’s cologne and the faint trace of their own exertion.

“Do you think I wouldn’t go to my knees and pleasure you right where we stand?” Victor growls, lips a bare inch from the shell of Yuuri’s ear, “Ask it of me, love, and see.”

Yuuri exhales a soft, wounded sound, and Victor pulls away just in time to watch the most divine expression of bliss eclipse his lover’s face.  He gasps, short and harsh twice in a row, and Victor only realizes what he’s seeing when Yuuri’s flush of pleasure vanishes to be replaced by a blanche of total mortification.

“Yuuri--”  Victor does not even have the chance to exclaim his amazement before Yuuri is clinging to him, hiding his face in Victor’s jacket front with a low groan of displeasure.

At first he thinks it to just be his intended’s typical reservedness rearing his head, and he tries to alleviate his embarrassment with humor.  

“My, that certainly was a lovely compliment, Yuuri,” Victor purrs, inviting Yuuri’s reciprocal flirtation, “I’m bound to grow very arrogant if you continue to respond to my kisses in such a manner.”

When Yuuri does not show any sign of amusement at Victor’s attempt at levity he grows concerned.  In fact despite the gentleness of Victor’s hold Yuuri appears quite stiff and uncertain, and a flicker of fear takes root in Victor’s heart.  When Yuuri begins to shake Victor knows he must make amends, whatever ill he has caused.

“Are you alright?”  Victor inquires uncertainly, “That was quite a surprise for both of us, I fear.”

No response.

“Did I overstep myself?” Victor asks softly, “I won’t be angry, Yuuri.  Do not fear telling me the truth.”

Yuuri hesitates, but at last he shakes his head  _ no _ .  The knot beneath Victor’s breastbone unclenches as his worst fear is assuaged. 

“Did you enjoy it, my love?”  

A very fervent nod.  Victor contains his pride in order to soothe his beloved.  He thinks he understands Yuuri’s reticence.  

“But it was a bit more than you were prepared for.”

Yuuri nods again, his cheeks heating before Victor’s gaze.  

“Then we shall simply keep it as a fond memory between us,” Victor promises, stroking through Yuuri’s silky black hair, “It shall have no bearing on my expectations for the remainder of your stay here, you have my word.”

Yuuri breathes a sigh of relief against his shoulder, and Victor feels his own solace in reassuring him.  As he said, Victor is more than content to save deeper intimacies for when they are married, happy accidents notwithstanding.  He presses a chaste kiss to Yuuri’s crown, and his heart is full when he feels Yuuri bestow his own kiss against the collar of Victor’s coat.

“Lovely,” Victor declares once he’s certain Yuuri is no longer in any kind of distress, “If I’m not mistaken you may desire a few moments solitude.  Shall I send a valet to check on you in your rooms, say five minutes hence?”

Yuuri manages to look Victor in the eye this time when he nods.  “Yes, thank you.  T-tell the others I spilled some wine,” he squeaks, finding his voice at last, “I’ll be back down shortly.”

“Of course.  I will see to our guests.”  Victor draws Yuuri’s hand to his lips for a light kiss before releasing his intended to seek a change of clothes.  

Only once his beloved slips through the door opposite the dining room does Victor allow himself to collapse against a bookshelf, hand pressed to his heart as he absorbs the fact that he just witnessed Yuuri Katsuki in a state of climactic ecstasy.  That he and Yuuri had shared touches so intimate as to bring them both to the point of oblivion, and it was Victor’s whispered words that had pushed his lover over the brink.  

What a night it has been.  

At length Victor manages to compose himself.  He straightens his clothes, and from a discreet cabinet beside the classics shelf he finds a bottle of port and a few glasses.  He may as well have a little truth to their ruse, and he could use a glass of something dark to settle himself after so much excitement.  

After a sip Victor reenters the dining room, looking every inch the perfect host, and not at all an improprietous scoundrel who was just in the other room kissing a man to whom he is not yet married within an inch of his life.  Fortunately it seems with the talented musicians he hired Victor has hardly been missed, though Christophe offers him a rather impertinent glance as he returns to the fold.

“Wherever have you been?” he wonders as Victor places the slim crystal glasses on the table beside the punch, “And what has happened to Mr. Katsuki?”

“My dear Mr. Katsuki was the casualty of some spilled port, I’m afraid,” Victor says innocently, brandishing the innocent bottle, “I thought we might enjoy a drink but alas, my hand slipped.  He thought it best to change, lest the stain set.”

Christophe smirks with a raised brow.  “I’m sure,” he agrees amiably, toasting Victor when he passes him a glass before giving a wistful sigh, “I remember when my husband and I were still courting.  I lost many a set of trousers to ‘spilled port’ myself.  Exciting times.”

  
Victor hardly avoids choking on his drink.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~burning fire emojis~ I hope you are all enjoying this journey so far. I'll be travelling in real life tomorrow, so don't be alarmed if there is a short delay in my updating. Never fear, however! I have the whole story planned out, including the ending, so you can count on the updates continuing at a pace!
> 
> Next up, Victor meditates on the nights...events ;)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *careless whisper playing in the background* time to take a break from all these side characters, and slow things down with one of my personal favorites...

Hours later, Victor admits he is still quite swept up in the memory of his lover’s inadvertent climax.  Alone in his bed he relives it again and again, the flush of Yuuri’s cheeks and the catch of his breath.  It was a most precious sight, one Victor had no expectation to receive until they entered the married state.  

Victor finds he cannot settle.  His body feels heated, and the normally mundane linen of his summer nightshirt a tantalizing caress against his skin.  How would Yuuri look, in such a garment?  What revelations are there to be found in the yoke of his shoulders or the turn of his calf when there is only this gauzy veil between them? Victor imagines daring, no, being  _ welcomed,  _ to slip his hand beyond the hem of that nightshirt, to lay a loving hand upon the bare skin of Yuuri’s most intimate person.  To bare himself, all propriety finally cast aside in sacred union with his spouse.

Victor finds his breath is coming short, and his blood flowing south.  His night shirt is near smothering, and he sheds the garment with little regret.  His drawers follow shortly after and he reclines against his plush ivory bedding without a stitch on, allowing his vivid imagination to run wild.

How would Yuuri make love to him?  Their brief kisses and delicate touches are more than enough to set his blood stirring, but Victor can’t help but wonder further.  What would it be like, behind the closed doors of their shared bed chamber; within the velvet shroud of their marriage bed?  The mere potential of that piece of furniture existing causes a soft sound to slip from Victor’s lips.  He draws a hand down his own body, soft and slow, imagining it to be Katsuki Yuuri’s touch.  Would he be shy?  Curious?  Forceful?  Victor traces a thumb over his own nipple and shivers.  Might Yuuri subjugate himself, or would Victor take to his knees as he promised, offering his husband the most carnal of delights?  He can’t decide what is more appealing.  Victor would have Katsuki Yuuri every way, and be taken in return just as eagerly.

“Yuuri,” he murmurs, tasting the shape of the name as he teases himself, drawing his fingers down to the heat of his growing arousal.  He strokes himself, slow, wetting his palm with his tongue to ease the slide of his fist.

He imagines himself between his Yuuri’s thighs, tasting his pleasure.  He can nearly hear the desperate sounds his love would make, and feel the heat and thickness of him in his mouth.  Victor quickens his pace over his own flesh.  Yuuri’s thighs, well muscled from his hearty walks, would clench under his palms as Victor pushes him over the precipice of ecstasy.  His lovely hands would weave through Victor’s hair as he savors every drop of his release.

Victor would lick him clean, shameless in his desire, and Yuuri would reward him in turn.  He would kiss him, so gently, awed and grateful yet confident, secure in the knowledge that Victor is his and his alone.  That all of Victor's talents are solely for Yuuri’s joy and pleasure.

Only when Victor was mindless with his need would Yuuri finally touch him, taking him in hand as he presses Victor into their bed with his own weight.  His kisses would grow heated, daring and possessive as Victor is brought to his climax, marking his throat and chest with ardent love bites-- 

Victor spills over his own hand to the sweet sting of that phantom pain.  He gasps, great heaving gulps of air as his pleasure crests and fades, and he is left loose limbed and filthy.  

Once his heart has settled Victor cleans himself as best he can with a spare handkerchief, tossing the soiled cloth in the wastebasket by his desk rather than use his sheets and give his chambermaid a nasty shock in the morning.  That small courtesy is all the good breeding Victor manages to exhibit before he is overcome with post-orgasm exhaustion, and he slips back into his drawers and under the covers with a satiated gust of air. 

  
As Victor is pulled at last into slumber, he can only think that he is very much looking forward to married life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next: some friendly competition!


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning dawns bright and bustling with Victor’s house still full of guests.  Breakfast is certainly an energetic affair, the younger participants chatting happily while the older gentlemen nurse their mild hangovers.  Other than a round of slight headaches it seems everyone enjoyed last night’s party immensely, with the exception of Christophe’s poor husband, who after finally warming to the dance floor managed to turn his ankle during the final waltz of the evening.  

Victor feels strangely domestic, sitting at the head of a full table with Yuuri at the opposite end, in the spouse’s place.  It’s almost as if they are already married, equal hosts to their mutual friends.  Every time Victor catches Yuuri’s eye over the rich array of morning foodstuffs he experiences a joyful little wriggle behind his breastbone.  It’s the furthest possible thing from unpleasant.  

“Now, Mr. Nikiforov,” Christophe speaks up when they have well tucked in to their eggs and toast, “These ladies and gentlemen have not yet seen the breadth of your country home, but I have.”

“Indeed, Lieutenant,” Victor agrees, sipping his tea, “I imagine you are more familiar with the mysteries of Castle Nikiforov than I myself.  Pray, what is your point?”

“I merely think to suggest,” Christophe says, with a mischievous glint in his eye, “That since we are such a fit company, my own dear spouse excepted this morning, that you might be so generous as to grant us access to your remarkable gymnasium.”

“You suggest that, do you?” Victor muses, tapping his chin with mock pensiveness despite the grin tugging at his lips, “I suppose the  _ salle _ has been rather underused, with only Yuri and myself to practice.  But then, have any of these gentlemen brought their fencing gear?”

The table is immediately filled with exclamations of enthusiasm.  Victor has a brief word with his butler and the day’s activity is set, much to the delight of his young guests.  It all makes Victor feel quite youthful again, with discussion of technique and training occupying the rest of their breakfast conversation.  Yuuri is alight, deep in conversation with Mr. Chulanont, though his eye keeps travelling back to Victor.  It seems he is at last to see his fiancé in a fencing uniform, a titillating sight indeed.  

After parting to change Victor gathers his guests in the gymnasium, delighting in their various expressions of awe at his non-traditional use of his second ballroom.  Following some warming up and youthful gadding about, they decide there could be a great deal of entertainment in an informal tournament, as they have so many able bodied young men in their number, and Yakov being good enough to serve as their official.  

Since Mr. Giacometti’s injury precludes him from participating, they are left with an uneven number of fencers in the first round of matches, which is resolved by Victor sitting out as well until the semifinal winners are determined.  With his experience and reputation he was certainly guaranteed a position in the second round regardless, so the point is moot.  Victor is quite content with this and after having a few chairs brought in he enjoys a nice pot of tea with the Misses Yang and Crispino and Mr. Giacometti while they observe the first three bouts and cheer on their favorites. 

First on the field are Yuuri and Mr. Chulanont.  It is one of the friendliest matches Victor has ever seen, both young men congratulating each other earnestly when a point is made.  Despite the lack of blood lust it is still an entertaining bout, though Victor is sure his intended has more skill than he chooses to display against his friend.  Mr. Chulanont has a clean technique and a unique style, but Yuuri’s footwork is poetry in motion, and his reach leaves his opponent outmatched.  Victor itches to see his beloved in a true test of his abilities.

“May I say, Mr. Katsuki,” Victor teases after Yuuri wins with a respectable lead in points, “I find your form to be  _ most _ impressive.”

“You  _ may _ say, Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri replies, blushing to hear his own words parroted back to him, “I look forward to observing your skills again as well.”

Yuuri and Phichit offer each other the mandatory salute and clear the field for the next match.  

They are a mixed company and thus a mix of aptitudes on the field, though as Yuuri’s friends are fresh from university they are all of course trained in the sport.  A surprising talent is Mr. Jean Jacques Leroy, who despite being the very definition of _nouveau riche_ and a _Canadian_ of all things easily defeats Christophe in next match.  With his military training Christophe is certainly no slouch in his fencing practice, which makes Mr. Leroy all the more intriguing an opponent.  Less intriguing is his pride, of which Mr. Leroy makes a rather distasteful display despite Christophe’s good-humored concession.  It’s a shame, Victor muses, that Mr. Leroy’s fianceé should be so genteel and himself so improprietous.  Ah, well, there’s little to be done for it, and Miss Yang seems quite content to be an ear for Mr. Leroy’s boasting and spare the rest of them listening to it. 

“I’m afraid I’ve made a rather poor showing for House Giacometti,” Christophe sighs as he joins the observers, pressing a gallant kiss to his husband’s hand before taking a seat.  

“Better a poor showing of sport than a poor showing of manners,” Mr. Giacometti replies with a wink, and Victor hums his agreement as the two men share a quiet laugh.  

“I only pray my dear friend Victor has the chance to avenge me,” Christophe murmurs, lest Mr. Leroy and his fiancee overhear.  Victor cannot contain his surely wicked grin.  

“I can assure you, sir,” he promises, “I’m very much looking forward to it.”

The final match of the first round in their friendly tournament are Yuri and Otabek Altin, the closest match in age but certainly not in skill, it’s clear in Victor’s observation.  Altin does have an impressive and eccentric style that manages to throw Victor’s ward for a loop more than once despite Yuri’s impressive talents.  Victor is quite curious where the first-year university student trained, as he fences unlike any gentleman he’s ever met.  

Despite Mr. Altin’s unusual technique Yuri is triumphant in the end, though he certainly takes his leisure of it, much to his fencing master’s chagrin.

“You could have defeated him much quicker,” Victor observes as Yuri passes off his blade, “I thought Yakov might require a doctor, his face was so red by the time you finally got on with it.”

His ward shrugs, though his expression is uncharacteristically pensive.  “I was...enjoying myself.  I’ve never faced such a singular opponent.”

Oh dear...Victor was going to have to keep a very close eye on Mr. Altin indeed. 

They enjoy a picnic luncheon right there in the gymnasium without even changing their clothes, wild young people that they are.  Victor’s staff provides platters of tea sandwiches and savory hors d'oeuvres, light fare that shant overfill their bellies for the rest of the afternoon’s activities.  Only when the last of the finalists are finishing their tea does Victor rise, resuming his role as master of ceremonies.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he announces, choosing his favorite foil from the rack, “It has been a fine morning of competition and sportsmanship by all parties, both victorious and vanquished.”  Victor offers a gallant salute with his blade, to the hoots and cheers of his friends.  “However, now begins the second tier of combat!  As host and champion among us, I claim my right to select my opponent from the three winners previous.” 

Victor peruses his three potential opponents, thoughtful in his consideration.  Who shall he challenge?  Yuri he almost immediately disqualifies, as they know each other’s skill too well, and he will likely see him in the final match regardless.  So the choice falls to Katsuki Yuuri, whose talents are not yet revealed, and Jean Jacques Leroy, who has made his all too known.  

“Mr. Leroy,” Victor decides at last, “Would you be so kind as to meet me on the field?”

After all, Victor will have a lifetime of practice on the field with his future spouse, and only the one chance to teach Mr. Leroy the value of gentlemanly behavior. 

“With pleasure, Mr. Nikiforov,” Mr. Leroy agrees, practically leaping to his feet, “Though you may find we have a new champion among us once the match is over.”

Victor does not allow his benevolent smile to budge an inch, despite the impropriety of the young man’s assertion.  Instead he directs a wink at Christophe, who barely contains his glare at the back of Mr. Leroy’s head, and Yuuri, who looks mortified to have invited this rude gentleman to Victor’s home.

“Indeed,” Victor agrees, tone benign, “We certainly shall see.”

Now, Victor would not call the match that follows a  _ trouncing _ , persay.  He is far too polite for such crass terminology.  However when Yakov calls the bout in Victor’s favor at fifteen points to seven some minutes later, he is confident that Mr. Leroy will not be so eager to brag about his own skill the next time they meet in the  _ salle _ .

“A most  _ entertaining  _ match, Mr. Leroy,” Victor says, his salute the epitome of genteel manners, “I thank you.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Leroy agrees with a wince, one hand to his lower ribs where Victor may have placed his final touch just a  _ hair _ firmer than necessary, “They certainly did not exaggerate your skill sir.  I find I am much educated.”

“I’m delighted to hear it.”

With his match won and Christophe’s honor avenged Victor and Mr. Leroy clear the field to make way for the two Yuri’s.  Victor returns gratefully to his vacant chair to watch his two favorite people compete, curious who he shall face in the champion’s round.  

As Victor suspected, there is much more to Katsuki Yuuri’s ability with a blade than first meets the eye, or so he is able to observe once he drags his gaze away from the lovely fit of Yuuri’s fencing uniform stretched across his muscled limbs.  Yuuri has nimble footwork and a light touch that could rival Victor’s own, should they have the chance to meet on the field.  Perhaps all Yuuri lacks in competition against Master Plisetsky is confidence.  With his trained eye Victor can spot Yuuri’s hesitance to make a bold move where others might only see a lack of refinement in technique.   Still, he scores high in the first half of the match precisely because the younger Yuri manages to underestimate him.  Victor’s ward learns quickly however, and a thrilling repartee later finds Yuri Plisetsky triumphant by only two points.  

The conclusion of the match finds both young men breathing heavily, flushed and sweaty from the intensity of their bout.  Yuuri is the first to regain his composure, flicking his blade first up to his face than away in the salute of the sport.   To Victor’s surprise and delight Yuri not only returns the salute, but crosses the field to shake the other Yuuri’s hand. 

“An excellent match,” Victor can barely hear his ward say, “And my victory narrowly earned, Mr. Katsuki.  I look forward to testing my skill against yours many more times in the years to come.”

Yuuri is clearly quite unable to hide his shock at Yuri’s sudden show of civility.  “W-why thank you, Master Plisetsky,” he manages to reply,  a shy smile on his lips, “The feeling is entirely mutual.”

“Is our Mr. Katsuki growing on you, my young friend?” Victor asks his ward quietly as they take the field in the final match.

“He shall practically be my brother-in-law soon enough,” Yuri grumbles, though he keeps his voice low for propriety’s sake, “I may as well get used to him.”

Victor laughs, secretly overjoyed.  “That’s the spirit, Yuri.”

“Shut up and take your position, old man.”  

As Yakov gives the signal to start them dueling, Victor finds he doesn’t care who wins.  His thoughts are only to his future, his family, and the many opportunities they’ll have in the years to come to share happy days like today surrounded by their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor totally wins tho lbr. 
> 
> Me: spends two days writing a just for fun fencing tournament that exactly matches the final rankings of the Grand Prix Final  
> Also Me: Is a huge nerd who loves canon references
> 
> Next up: a location change, and some intense conversations for Victor!


	13. Chapter 13

“I’ve been thinking on my arrangements to return home,” Yuuri says one morning at the breakfast table, wiping his lips daintily on a napkin as he finishes his rasher of bacon.  

“What? No,” Victor exclaims, nearly spilling his tea, “You can't leave us early, I still have so much of the estate to acquaint you with.  Why we have yet to hike the moors, or-or tour the local village together or--”

“Victor.”

Victor falls silent at the quiet firmness of his lover’s tone.

“I'm not leaving early.” Yuuri looks at him with fondness, but with no small measure of exasperation.  “Victor, I’ve been here for nearly a month.”

“That is quite impossible, sir, you must be--”  Victor pauses to count back the days in his head since their friends had departed.  They had spent a few days resting after the excitement of their tournament, then there had been the day long ride they took around the perimeter of Victor’s land, and the three days Yuuri had spent helping him to understand the finer points of the Greek romances in the library, and--  “--ah.”

“I've been trying to broach the subject for more than a week,” Yuuri explains, “But each time I sought to bring it up you suggested a new activity for the coming day and, well, I didn't have the heart to turn you down.”

Victor briefly laments the swift passing of time.  Spending his days by Yuuri’s side in perfect happiness had indeed foreshortened his perception.  His beloved’s keen interest and sweet kisses have made the time seem like only days, not the weeks that had truly passed.  

“Do not mistake me, I’ve greatly enjoyed my time here,” Yuuri assures him, “I am by no means your hostage.  However, if I were to remain any longer I fear there could be...unpleasant rumors.”

“Good lord, I hardly gave it a thought,” Victor realizes with a flood of guilt, “You and I here,  _ unmarried _ , for a month, without even a chaperone.  Yuuri, forgive me.”

“There's nothing to forgive,” Yuuri replies, smile tinged with sadness for some unknown reason, “But it’s high time that I return home.”

“Quite right,” Victor agrees.  Yuuri no doubt has many affairs to settle at home before they can begin to plan their wedding and his permanent move to Victor’s estate.  “Give me one day to set things in order here and then we shall depart first thing tomorrow.”

Yuuri’s eyes widen in frank confusion.  “W-We?” 

“Yes, of course,” Victor replies, “Twenty-four hours will be plenty of time to prepare the carriage and Yuri will be quite content here with Yakov and his tutor while we are gone.”

“I assure you, that’s all hardly necessary.  I can make my own way--” 

Victor laughs over his tea.  “Don't be ridiculous.  I'm hardly going to make you take the post.”

“Truly, I don’t want to be an inconvenience--”

“It will not do for you to travel alone when I am at perfect liberty to accompany you,” Victor insists.  Honestly, Yuuri’s behavior is downright peculiar.  Did he think Mr. Leroy left his fiancée to travel unaccompanied, or Christophe his husband when they were available to serve as escort and companion?

When Yuuri does not seem reassured by his words Victor sips his tea, casting about for what could be bothering his fiance.  It takes him a long minute to realize that Yuuri’s insecurity might be related to a much more fundamental issue than Victor’s convenience.  He pieces it together just as Yuuri opens his mouth to speak again.   

“It’s just that I--”

“Yuuri,” Victor interrupts him, voice pitched low and solemn as he sets his cup down, “You must know I would be nothing but honored to meet your family.”

His intended casts his gaze down and Victor is confident he has found the source of Yuuri’s discomfort.  He reaches across the table to lay his hand over Yuuri’s.  

“I am well aware of the difference in our stations,” Victor says, his voice frank, “And rest assured your family’s income, and the means by which they earn it, has no bearing on my opinion of your character.  I am as eager to meet your parents as I would be to introduce you to mine, were they still living.  If it is a matter of propriety, I am more than content to delay travelling for a few days to secure an invitation before simply arriving unannounced on the doorstep of your family home, but other than that I see no obstacle to my accompanying you.”

Yuuri still looks hesitant.  “Our house will likely seem...quite small,” he says quietly, “And plain.”

“I'm certain it will be charming,” Victor replies, pressing a brief kiss to Yuuri’s hand.

“I know that my stay with you could not last forever,” Victor murmurs, stroking his thumb over Yuuri’s knuckles, “I have duties here, and you no doubt have your own familial obligations to sort out.  But I would like to undertake this journey at your side, unless you truly do not want my company.”

“No--I-I would like that very much,” Yuuri admits at last, his smile faint but present.

“Excellent,” Victor declares, “Then let us eat and be off.  There is much to do and very little time!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick chapter to get us on the road to meeting the Katsuki family! I'm doing my best to post every day and keep up my momentum. 
> 
> Up next: A warm welcome at Katsuki cottage! But Victor has intense conversations yet to come...


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning has only just dawned when they prepare to set out for Yuuri’s home.  Even leaving as early as they are they will only just arrive in time for supper, and Yuuri had expressed the specific desire not to let Victor suffer the expense of an inn along the way.  A single night’s stay would hardly be a strain on Victor’s income, but as he had to expend so much energy to even convince Yuuri to take his carriage and not the public post, Victor considers it a compromise between them and simply has a lunch basket prepared to enjoy on the road.

Their luggage is swiftly stowed away, Yuuri still having his one small trunk and Victor having managed to restrain his wardrobe magnificently into only one trunk and one leather suitcase.  That leaves only a quick goodbye to Yuri and Makkachin, the latter of whom jumps up to lick Yuuri’s face in a farewell kiss.  This earns a hearty laugh from Victor’s fiance, who gives the poodle a fond scratch behind the ears with a strangely wistful expression.

“No need to look so dismal,” Yuri pipes up, also noticing Yuuri’s melancholy, “It’s not like you’ll never see us again.  There shall be plenty more opportunities for the beast to slobber on you.”

Yuuri laughs again, though the mournfulness still does not fully leave his countenance.  “That’s very kind of you to say, Master Plisetsky.”

“Yes, well,” Yuri harrumphs, looking secretly pleased, “Keep up your fencing.  I shall be very put out if my best opponent has gotten fat and lazy next we meet on the field.”  

“I shall endeavor not to disappoint,” Yuuri promises.  

At that moment their driver announces their readiness to depart, Victor’s valet already waiting with the door open.  

“We should be off,” Victor reminds his beloved, before addressing his ward, “You are master of the house until I return, Mr. Plisetsky.  Bear your power well, and with benevolence.”

“Yes, yes, off with you,” Yuri dismisses them, “Makkachin and I shall finally have some peace and quiet.”

Victor assists Yuuri into the carriage, stepping up himself before his valet closes the door and they are enclosed in the cushioned interior.  When both driver and valet are seated out front Victor knocks thrice against the inner wall to indicate they are prepared to depart.  Seconds later they hear the snap of the reigns and the whinny of horses, and they begin to roll down the long drive away from Castle Nikiforov.

Yuuri watches out the window until Victor’s house has long vanished.  

“You look most forlorn, my love,” Victor murmurs, once Yuuri has settled in his seat at last.  Surely he knows their departure will not be permanent?

“I’m merely thinking on the many fond memories I shall keep here,” Yuuri replies.  Victor smiles, entangling their fingers on the seat between them.  

“And you shall make many--” Victor’s assurance is interrupted by a most unbecoming yawn.  He covers his mouth with his free hand, mortified, but Yuuri only laughs, leaning his head on Victor’s shoulder.  

“Still tired?” he asks, “Were you up very late settling your estate?”

Victor offers his own lethargic chuckle.  “More like packing,” he admits, “I had to make a most grueling decision between which two dinner jackets would make the best impression during my stay.”

“A difficult decision indeed,” Yuuri agrees seriously, though his shoulders shake with quiet humor.  Victor hums, allowing his cheek to settle against the soft cushion of his beloved’s hair.  

“Quite so,” he mumbles, eyes growing heavy, “Like choosing a favored child, I daresay.”

Victor dozes off to the musical sound of Yuuri’s laughter.

Their hands are still intertwined when Victor is nudged awake some hours later.  

“Victor.”

“Hm?”  

“Victor, wake up.  We’re here.”

Victor pushes aside the velvet curtains inside the carriage windows to catch a glimpse of a sweet white-washed house, framed by the most picturesque little garden.

“It’s enchanting,” Victor declares, and he’s glad to see Yuuri smile at his words.  Yuuri squeezes their hands between them.

“Welcome to Katsuki Cottage.”

 

 

* * *

 

  


Jovial.  That is the only word Victor can find to describe Yuuri’s parents.  Jovial and welcoming.  He has hardly offered the proper greetings of respect before the older couple are besieging him with their soft-spoken and overwhelming friendliness.  He is ushered towards the house at once, led by the kind and round-faced older couple while Yuuri is quite nearly left behind on the front lawn.

“ _Do_ come in, Mr. Nikiforov!”

“What a handsome carriage you have, Mr. Nikiforov!”  

“Oh, it was so _good_ of you to have our Yuuri to stay, Mr. Nikiforov!”

“You must come and try some of my wife’s cooking, Mr. Nikiforov!”

Slightly more reserved is Yuuri’s elder sister. Yuuri catches up to introduce them just as Victor is offering the young woman a gentlemanly bow.  

“Ah-h, may I introduce my sister,” Yuuri says, slightly out of breath from chasing their welcoming party up the front steps, “Mari, this is my...good friend, Victor Nikiforov.  Lord of the Nikiforov estate.”

“Mr. Nikiforov.”  Miss Katsuki offers him a polite curtsey.  “It was very kind of you to see my brother home safely.”

“It was my pleasure, Miss Katsuki, I assure you,” Victor replies.  There is certainly a resemblance between Yuuri and his sister, though Katsuki Mari has a certain...maturity about her countenance that Yuuri does not share.  Victor cannot put his finger on the name for the quality, nor can he determine why it seems to be aimed at him, when Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki have even in the few minutes since they’ve arrived been so agreeable.

“I’m sure it was,” Miss Katsuki replies, perfectly civil except again for that odd tone.

“Mama, might we show Mr. Nikiforov his room?” Yuuri interjects before Victor can ask Miss Katsuki to clarify her remarks, “His valet likely needs to unpack his things, and I’m sure he would like to freshen up before dinner.”

Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki are the very quintessence of hospitality, ushering Victor and his valet to a quaint and comfortable guest room with powder blue walls and soft, freshly laundered bedding.  It is likely the only spare room in the house, the size of which admittedly leaves Victor feeling a little claustrophobic when he compares it to the cavernous grandeur of his own estate.  Despite this it is plain the Katsuki family runs a well kept-house, filled with comfortable furnishings and agreeable people.  Victor is certain with some acclimating he could be quite happy to visit here frequently, once he is the Katsukis’ son-in-law and not just their guest.

Dinner is soon served, and while the Katsukis do dress and gather in a formal dining hall Victor finds little of the noble affectation that he has come to be familiar with at the evening meal.  Rather than be served they pass dishes around the table, hearty fare that has Victor’s mouth watering.  Yuuri points Victor towards the dishes that are his favorites, and Mrs. Katsuki is quick to chime in with the secrets of preparation or the family history of the recipe.  Victor listens carefully, and makes a note to pass the details of Yuuri’s favorites on to his own cook.  When they are married Victor wants their dinner table to reflect both their tastes.

Eventually conversation turns to Yuuri’s extended stay at Victor’s estate.  Yuuri blushes, but shyly shares the details of a few of their more proprietous adventures.  Victor chimes in from time to time, adding a humorous anecdote, or lightly reprimanding Yuuri when his humble nature veers to close to self-deprecation.  

“No, no, Mrs. Katsuki, let me assure you your son was only a stroke away from victory,” Victor interrupts when Yuuri recounts the final match of the fencing tournament, “He has a masterful skill with a blade.”

“Oh yes, we know our Yuuri is very talented,” Mrs. Katsuki agrees, with a pleased smile that reminds Victor very strongly of his fiance, “He’s far too humble.  It’s a shame, we’re so occupied with our business that we’ve only gotten to seen him in competition a handful of times.”

“Well I can promise you, Mr. Katsuki is enchanting to watch,” Victor says, and then in a murmur only for his beloved’s ears, “On the _salle_ and off.”  

Yuuri turns a most delightful pink at Victor’s boldness, which blessedly goes unnoticed by his parents.  He is not so lucky to escape the observation of Miss Katsuki, however.  If Yuuri’s sister thinks ill of Victor’s behavior she says nothing, only continuing her quiet and unnerving study while she contributes politely to conversation at the table.

Victor retires early after dinner, still quite tired despite his long nap on their journey, and he wishes to allow Yuuri some time to catch up with his family without a guest in the room.  After some reading, Victor dresses for bed and lays down under the soft comforter.  As he nears sleep he realizes the whole of dinner passed without one mention of he and Yuuri’s engagement.  He muses on the oddness of it as he drifts off.  Nothing is too amiss.  After all, Yuuri surely informed his parents of his intentions before he proposed.

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next morning comes swiftly and with it Victor’s first full day as a guest at Katsuki Cottage.  He greets his hosts politely at the breakfast table and he is rewarded with a fresh cup of tea and a serving of porridge dotted with fresh berries and swirled with fragrant cinnamon.  Yuuri is seated beside him, and Victor offers his beloved a besotted smile, touched by a sudden longing to be seated at his own breakfast table at home, that he might be free to give Yuuri a kiss goodmorning.  

Victor is just thinking to ask Yuuri if he might be convinced to give him a tour of the local village when Miss Katsuki speaks up rather boldly.

“Have you yet seen our garden, Mr. Nikiforov?” she asks, “The weather being so mild I thought I might take a bit of a turn after breakfast, if you would care to join me.”

Victor is man enough to admit he finds Yuuri’s sister slightly intimidating, especially given her careful consideration of him thus far.  Accepting her invitation will no doubt mean confronting whatever misgivings she must have about Victor’s connection with her younger brother.

“You should go,” Yuuri encourages him, missing Victor’s trepidation entirely, “My father asked me to help him look over some papers after breakfast, so I’ll be engaged for a few minutes regardless.”

Victor sighs internally, but manages a gracious smile, to set his intended’s mind at ease at least.  “Thank you, Miss Katsuki.  I’d love to.”

Once the breakfast dishes have been cleared Victor follows Yuuri’s sister down a short hall and out onto a small porch with steps down to the yard where a circular path winds through a country garden.  The foliage is very pleasant, though a great deal wilder than Victor’s own.  In the brief glance Victor spares to the flower beds and interweaving shrubbery he admits there is something pleasing about the slightly overgrown quality of it, as though they strolled through a fairytale grove rather than a manicured yard.  

“You keep a lovely garden,” Victor says once they have walked some distance from the house, “But I sense there is some deeper matter that you wish to speak to me on.”

“Indeed there is,” Miss Katsuki agrees, the picture of civility despite the thinly veiled suspicion in her eyes, “As you may know, I am Yuuri’s eldest and only sibling. I have looked to his health and happiness since the day he was born, and as it concerns him I see things that my parents, loving though they are, may not.”   

“Say what you will, madame,” Victor urges her, “I seek only transparency between us.”

“Your attentions to my brother surpass that of common friendship,” Miss Katsuki says, accusation in her tone, “He’s _lived_ with you, for nearly a month, and I have little doubt how your time was spent together.”

“Miss Katsuki I _assure_ you--”

“You speak often sir, and well, but pray listen just this once.”

Victor falls silent, nodding to show his obedience and allow Miss Katsuki to speak uninterrupted.

“My parents won’t ask, because you are a lord, but I shall, because I care more for my brother’s happiness than for your good opinion.”

There is a pregnant pause, but Victor has given his word to hear the young woman out, and he does not interject.

“What are your intentions toward Yuuri?”

Victor tamps down the affront that bubbles up in response to Miss Katsuki's blunt inquiry.  This is Yuuri’s sister, and someday to be Victor’s sister as well.  Her protective nature is one to be admired, not offended by, despite Victor being it's target in this moment.  Besides, it's not as though Victor has any but the most proprietous intentions toward her brother, and he is not afraid to say so to any who might ask.

“Miss Katsuki, I intend to _marry_ him.”

It is plain that Yuuri’s sister is taken aback, as though she had expected Victor to deny their connection, or speak of Yuuri as an amorous fling to be cast aside when Victor grew bored.  Again Victor does his best not to be insulted.

“I don’t know what you must think of me, or why,” Victor continues, “But I am not a man to make myself welcome in the intimate affections of another without such an intention.  Your brother and I are engaged.”

Now Miss Katsuki only looks confused.

“And does he know this?” she asks at last.

“Does he _know_ \--” Victor sputters, “I should certainly say he does.  If we are lacking in some public proclamation it is only because I defer to your brother’s reservedness on the matter."

Miss Katsuki frowns, as though Victor has made some crucial misstep, rather than acted with respect toward his fiance’s right to dictate when an announcement shall be made in his own home.

“There are certain subjects on which my brother must be spoken to plainly, and without artifice,” she warns, “or I assure you, sir, he will assume the worst and never say a word.”

“Our understanding is concrete,” Victor insists, flexing his hand to feel the smooth metal of his engagement ring.  Yuuri’s sister catches the movement and she stares at the gold ring curiously before blowing out a deep sigh.  When she again meets Victor’s eye Miss Katsuki’s gaze no longer holds any suspicion, only uncertainty and...pity?

“Mr. Nikiforov, I fear you do not know my brother as well as you think you do.”

Miss Katsuki’s appearance of genuine concern throws Victor into a brief state of doubt.  Could he possibly be so mistaken, as Yuuri’s sister seems to think?  Yuuri came to stay at his house.  He declared his regard for Victor.  He put a _ring_ on his finger.  Was Victor not meant to interpret these actions as the declaration that they were?

Victor’s introspecting is interrupted by Yuuri himself, looking lovely as he steps out onto the back porch to survey the garden.

“Victor,” Yuuri calls when he spots them, “Will you walk to the village with me?  I want to take you to lunch in my favorite pub.”

Basking in the warmth of his beloved’s gaze, all Victor’s trepidations are forgotten.  How could he let Miss Katsuki put such doubt in his mind, when the evidence to the contrary is right in front of him?  

“I’d be delighted,” Victor replies, with eyes only for his fiancé.  With a polite goodbye to Miss Katsuki Victor joins Yuuri on the porch, allowing their fingers to brush as they return to the house together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mari knows all. 
> 
> Next up: A bath!


	15. Chapter 15

Victor enjoys a lovely afternoon with Yuuri about town, stepping in and out of quaint shops offering all manner of local delicacies and curios.  Victor does his best to keep his appearance reserved, at least to the outside eye, despite his constant and thrumming desire to touch his beloved, to grasp his hand as Yuuri leads him to the next shop, or kiss him when Yuuri looks to him with eyes bright over some object of wonder.  However besotted Victor might be, they haven’t yet made their engagement public, and thus any contact between them could be a harm to Yuuri and the Katsuki’s reputation.

Besides having to keep a proprietous distance between them, the only inconvenience of the day is the dusty streets brought on by the heat of summer.  Though the walk is short, and the weather pleasant, by the time he and Yuuri return from the village Victor admits he feels as though he were covered in a faint layer of grime.  Fortunately Victor’s guest bedroom is equipped with a private bath, and with ample time to dress before dinner he parts ways with his intended in the front hall to seek out a nice refreshing soak.  

Some minutes later finds Victor in a lovely copper bathtub, nearly neck deep in a wealth of fragrant bubbles with a hot wet washcloth over his eyes.  He lets the days exertions seep from his limbs and muses over his plans for the near and distant future.

After dinner he will speak with Yuuri on his desires for announcing their engagement.  Typically the happy couple will print a declaration of their intent to marry in the city paper, but Victor is also receptive to posting handwritten announcements to their friends and family if Yuuri would prefer a more personal touch.  Victor would also like to throw a proper party, most likely at his townhouse in the city, so they can celebrate with their society friends, but he would certainly be amenable to opening up his estate’s ballroom.  Perhaps he could host Yuuri’s parents, if that were the case.  It would certainly do well to have Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki know where their son will be spending his married life.  Victor hums contentedly in the steaming water.  So much to plan, and all the time in the world for it.  

Victor’s relaxing soak is interrupted by the creak of the bathroom door opening.  It only takes a few steps of the gentle tread for Victor to realize the interloper is not his manservant, who he’d been expecting with soap and a towel, but his sweet fiancé.  

“What mischief is this?” Victor inquires with a puckish grin, “You are certainly not my valet.  What have you done with him, mysterious sir?

“He’s laying out your dinner clothes in your room,” Yuuri assures him, draping a towel over a nearby stool by the sounds of it, “I thought you might prefer some more...amiable society.”

“Hm…” Victor muses, still teasing, “I’m very fond of my valet.  It would be someone very dear indeed who could replace his company.”

Victor removes the washcloth from his brow, blinking water from his eyes to see that somewhere between the entrance hall and here Yuuri seems to have misplaced his coat.  Yuuri kneels beside the tub, practically half-dressed, with the soap Victor had been waiting on.  

“In only your shirtsleeves?” Victor gasps with mock affront to distract from his own breathless wonder at the sight of his beloved in only his loose linen shirt and waistcoat, “My love, we might as well both be naked.”

Yuuri laughs, and when Victor gives his consent he begins to wash Victor’s hair, working the soap into a rich lather against his scalp.  Like the rich foam filling the tub the soap smells of lavender and honey, and Victor finds himself sinking into contented bliss.  After such a long day of careful behavior under public scrutiny, the intimacy of Yuuri’s touch is absolute paradise.

“I haven’t so many serviceable coats that I could risk splashing bath water on one,” Yuuri says, voice light despite the blush on his cheeks, “And I would venture you are still a great deal less dressed than I.”

“Indeed, I am exposed,” Victor breathes, practically purring under Yuuri’s ministrations, “You see the very soul of me, Mr. Katsuki.”

Yuuri laughs, dropping a kiss on Victor’s brow before reaching for the pitcher of clean water.

“You hardly need be undressed for me to know your soul,” he replies at last, rinsing the fragrant soap from Victor’s hair, “It shines through in your every word and motion.”

Victor hums in pleasure at the drag of his lover’s fingers over his scalp.  “Then my true intentions are clear.”

They do not speak for some moments as Victor keeps his eyes and mouth closed until the last of the soap is washed away.  Yuuri does not take his hands away from Victor for even a single breath, his chaste but intimate touches tracing through Victor’s hair and over the curves and angles of his face and throat.  At last Yuuri pushes Victor’s wet hair away from his eyes, handing him the soap and another washcloth.

“Your bubbles grow thin,” Yuuri murmurs, pressing a shy kiss to Victor’s cheek, “I’ll leave you to your washing and see about my own dinner clothes.”  

“You’re so sweet, my Yuuri,” Victor hums, his gaze tracing Yuuri’s figure greedily as he makes for the door, empty pitcher in hand “Saving my modesty until our wedding night, hmm?“

Yuuri falters.

“Our...wedding night?” he repeats.  His brow is furrowed when he looks back at Victor, as though seeing him for the first time.

“Of course,” Victor replies, cocking his own head curiously at Yuuri’s odd tone, “Unless you’ve changed your mind, and you’d rather see me now--”

“Ack!  No--” Yuuri protests when Victor makes to rise from the copper tub, “--ahh excuse me I think I hear my mother calling for my assistance!”

Victor laughs as his flustered fiancé practically flees the room, though there is a nervous sort of wriggle in the back of his mind as he sinks back into the rapidly cooling water.  He does his best to thwart the feeling, writing it off as leftover trepidation from Katsuki Mari’s interrogation that morning and Victor’s own eagerness to settle the many undecided details of he and Yuuri’s future life together.

  
As he gives himself a good scrub Victor makes up his mind: after dinner he and Yuuri shall have a good long chat and begin to make some decisions. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Kkkkssskkks* attention passengers, as you can see the Captain has turned on the ‘fasten your seatbelts’ sign *kkkkskksksk* it seems we are heading into some unexpected turbulence *kkkkssksks* do not be alarmed if you experience some angst and miscommunication between your favorite Regency couple *kkkksksssss* as we are expecting a smooth landing at our final destination *kkkssskks* thank you for choosing Air Victuuri and enjoy the remainder of your flight! *kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkksssksksks*


	16. Chapter 16

Victor doesn't find an opportunity to speak to Yuuri alone that night.  Immediately after dinner his intended vanishes into his father’s study, claiming to need to give their financial papers a second going over.  Victor thinks to follow Yuuri, if only to keep him company in silence, but he finds himself faced with a nearly slammed door and the click of a lock.  Now even more perturbed, Victor does his best to respect his beloved’s family duties and decides to wait him out, enjoying a few rounds of whist with the Mrs. and Miss Katsuki.  

After the ladies retire Victor satisfies himself with a book until he can hardly contain his yawning, so late is the hour.  He is just about to give up and seek rest himself when at last he hears the study door creak open.  Victor practically rushes down the hall only to find not Yuuri, but a maid there to do the night’s tidying up.  He apologizes for startling her and learns that Yuuri had himself gone to bed some hours ago.  Perplexed, Victor retires to his own quarters, where he tosses and turns for most of the night.  When he does sleep, it is very ill indeed.

Yuuri’s odd behavior continues into the next day.  He appears at breakfast, perfectly at ease, only to excuse himself when Victor tries to suggest some diversion they might pursue together.  Yuuri’s parent’s, well occupied during the daylight hours with the running of their inn, don’t seem to notice any oddness to their son’s behavior.  Miss Katsuki is little help when Victor tries to enquire as to whether Yuuri might be ill as they play hearts in the library.  

“I tried to tell you,” is all she has to say to him before beginning the next trick.  

Victor passes the day mostly in solitude, doing his best to keep the doubts from his heart.

Dinner passes in a deceivingly cheerful manner, Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki filling the silence with the goings on at the inn.  Victor manages to veil his own unease, smiling and laughing at the couples’ humorous anecdotes of their more eclectic guests, yet his true thoughts are only for the man sitting beside him.  Yuuri is putting on his own admirable performance, adding his own details to the conversation and all the while never looking at Victor once.  By the end of dinner Victor fears he might have turned invisible, so close to his beloved and yet so totally bereft of his attentions for the first time since they’d met.

Yuuri vanishes yet again once their plates have been cleared, and unable to continue the charade Victor retires early, citing a slight headache.

Victor’s valet is only beginning to lay out his nightclothes when there is a light knock at the door of his room.  He’s immensely relieved to find his fiance waiting on the other side.

“Yuuri!” Victor greets his beloved with a smile. “Come in, my love.  You’ve had me so worried.  Are you unwell?”

“I’m quite well, thank you,” Yuuri assures him, though he does not seem to be in his usual good spirits, “Might we speak alone?”

“Of course.” Victor nods to his valet, who exits with a quiet bow, leaving Victor and Yuuri in the bedroom.  “What’s troubling you, Yuuri?”

His fiance seems quite hesitant to speak, as though there were anything he could reveal that would affect Victor’s good opinion of him.

“Your time in the country will not last forever,” Yuuri says at last, “I know you’ll be returning to the city for the social season.”

_ And you will join me, beloved _ , Victor thinks.  Perhaps they’ll spend a season engaged, then have a summer wedding.  No need to rush, after all.  

“Yes,” he says aloud, “It’s high time for Yuri to make his official debut.  We couldn’t skip it, as much as I’d love to winter in the country.”

Yuuri nods, as if resigning himself.  Victor feels a flicker of trepidation.  Is Yuuri so anxious about returning to Society?

“You must know...that I regard you with the highest esteem,” Yuuri says at last, “And I look upon our time together with the deepest sense of intimate friendship.”

_ Friendship?   _ “Yuuri, we  _ are  _ friends, but certainly my regard for you is-”

“I wish to release you from any obligation you may feel towards me.”

Victor’s words die in his throat.  

“You were swayed by your passions and now you wish to spare me heartache,” Yuuri says, eyes cast down, “But I am more than aware of my own circumstances, with no means and little connection. I made no presumption that you would ever bind yourself to me in any permanent fashion, nor would I wish you to do so due to a misplaced sense of honor or...or pity.  I thank you for your attentions, and I hope that we might remain amicable to one another.”  

Yuuri completes his devastation of Victor’s heart with a bow, stiff and formal as if they were strangers just introduced at a dinner party.  Victor’s vision blurs, and it’s not until the first fat teardrop plunks onto his lapel that he understands he’s crying.

“I had no idea you held such an ill opinion of my character, Yuuri.”

“...ill opinion?” Yuuri’s eyes widen as he beholds Victor’s sudden tears.  “N-no.  Never!”

“Clearly you must, if you think me capable of such cruelty,” Victor breathes, “That I could use you, my beloved, in such an abominable manner and think nothing of it.”

“But surely you did not intend--You are wealthy, and handsome, with connections I could hardly dream of,” Yuuri stammers, “You would be free to marry anyone you chose.”

“And I chose you, weeks ago,” Victor reminds him, voice rising, “And you chose me, or did this--”  He peels the glove from his right hand, revealing the ring he’d treasured since Yuuri had bestowed it upon him that blessed day.  “--did this mean nothing to you?” 

“What on earth are you talking about?” 

“I took this ring as an  _ understanding _ between us,” Victor shouts, “That I was  _ yours.” _

Yuuri blanches.  “It was merely a token!  A-a gift between sweethearts!  As if I would dare to make such a claim on you, I who have  _ nothing-” _

_ “You had my heart _ .”  Victor has no doubt stained his dinner jacket irrevocably, his flood of tears unceasing.  “And I yours.  I saw nothing lacking.”

While he does not share Victor’s flair for the dramatic Yuuri is plainly holding back his own tears.  

“...had?”  Yuuri whispers, “Do I no longer hold your affections, Victor?”

Victor briefly considers having mercy on his careless lover, but his eye catches the mocking glint of the ring on his finger and he hardens his heart.  

“That is up to you, Mr. Katsuki,” he replies, “Since you clearly think me incapable of holding genuine affections toward anyone beyond my own station.”

Yuuri opens his mouth to object but Victor is already pulling the gold ring from his finger, offering it to its original owner with ice in his veins.  

“You may return this to me,” Victor declares, “When you can be confident in the validity of our connection, should such a day ever come.”  

Katsuki Yuri accepts the ring with a trembling hand.

“Victor-”

“If you’ll forgive me,” Victor cuts him off, “The hour is late, and I have preparations to make for my journey back to my residence. Urgent business requires me to leave earlier than planned.”

It's a dismissal as clear as any, and Victor’s perfect manners the cruelest condemnation he can muster.  Yuuri’s expression crumples, then hardens, and he offers a curt bow.

“I will take my leave.”  

Victor returns his bow, praying that Yuuri is gone before he rises, or he might crumple to the very floor with the weight of his heartbreak.  He hears the creak of the door and glances up, only to see Yuuri watching him with tears streaking his cheeks, and a fiery determination.

“Mark my words,” he vows, “You  _ will _ wear this ring again, Mr. Nikiforov.”

He vanishes before Victor can respond.

  
As soon as the room is sealed Victor drops to his knees, unable to sustain even the appearance of propriety for one second longer.  In his finest dinner clothes he sobs, his dearest hopes lying shattered before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri: is a normal guy, trying to navigate the complex world of society where he constantly feels like he doesn't belong and has learned the hard way that he is only a tool for the use of nobility so he has a hard time trusting in his relationships with them  
> Victor: Is so Extra
> 
> Next up: some letters! and a secret is revealed!


	17. Chapter 17

~~_ My dearest Mr. Katsuki, _ ~~

~~_ My love, forgive me.  I think back on the cruelty of my words and the lack of compassion for your situation and I _ ~~

 

~~_ My dearest, dearest Yuuri _ ~~

~~_ Come back to my arms I beg of you.  I cannot fathom another day without the warmth of your affection _ ~~

 

~~_ My Yuuri _ ~~

~~_ Please have mercy  _ ~~

 

* * *

 

 

_ Dear Mr. Katsuki, _

_ I have had little wish to insert myself in this the process of this disastrous courtship between my guardian and yourself, but it has been nearly a month now of tolerating Victor’s supreme despondency with no end in sight, and let me assure you sir it is a most excruciating position.  In the name of ending all our suffering I write to you, though we’ve known each other but briefly, and I pray you hear my message out. _

_ I will not deny my guardian’s anger, and heartbreak, upon learning your supposed engagement was indeed a one sided assumption.  However I find myself empathetic to your situation, and I can only imagine the conclusions I would have drawn were I myself in the same circumstances.  Despite being a grown man Victor is able to enjoy a certain naivete regarding the often heartless ways of the world in a manner you and I are not, having been born into less privileged circumstances than he.  His good breeding often results in essential words left unsaid, and to one unfamiliar with the depth of Victor’s character it is understandable how you came to the assumptions that you did, however mistaken.   _

_ I find that I feel partially responsible for your separation, and thus all of our misery.  There are certain truths to the circumstances of my joining Victor’s household that were withheld from you, which would have been your right to know as my guardian’s fiance, which I had every impression that you were.  Had I been more forthcoming, or had Victor felt free to share the details of my past without becoming the target of my ire, perhaps it would have led to greater transparency between you.  I will do my best to be truthful now, that it might lead to you a greater understanding of  _ ~~_ my guardian _ ~~ _ my brother’s character. _

_ Victor and my mother were childhood friends, very dear to one another despite her being a commoner and several years his senior.  Their connection, innocent as it was, was frowned upon by his parents, but when he reached the acceptable age he was sent away to school and it was assumed that would be the end of it.  However when Victor, now a young man preparing for university, encountered my mother again it was to find her not thriving, as he was, but in the most ill circumstances.  I was nearly six years old, and my mother was unwed, my father’s whereabouts unknown.  Victor utilized all his resources to track the bastard down, and when that failed, he offered to marry my mother himself.  She refused of course, still being firm in her pride and knowing well the scandal it would have caused.  Nonetheless Victor supported us in secret, with the allowance he was afforded by his parents.  When he at last became lord of his estate he sought to shelter us permanently, but it was too late for my mother, whose health had declined sharply.  She died here, nearly five years ago, with Victor’s promise that I would be his ward and heir.   _

_ Thus I hope it is clear to you, Mr. Katsuki, my brother’s deep commitment to following the urges of his heart and conscience goes far beyond the bounds of what is proper.  I stand the heir to one of our nation’s most ancient estates without a drop of noble blood in my veins, all caused by his compassion and affection for a childhood friend.  I trust you to imagine what he would think of a matter so trifling as station barring him from matrimony to the man he considers the love of his life.  And he does consider you thus, Mr. Katsuki, let me assure you.  Not once since your first meeting has Victor Nikiforov offered you any affection or intimacy without the purest intentions of love and future matrimony. _

_ I beg of you to return to my brother’s arms, and if you cannot, then at least reply, and make your rejection of his affections concrete, that he might cease his incessant moping about.  He has cast a pallor about the entirety of the estate.  Even Makkachin cannot be consoled, between his master’s despair and your absence. _

 

_ All our hopes lie in you, Mr. Katsuki, _

~~_ Your Obd. servant _ ~~

_ Your friend, _

_ Yuri Plisetsky _

 

* * *

 

 

~~_ Dear Mr. Nikiforov, _ ~~

~~_ How can I begin to ask your forgiveness, and offer you the reassurance of my most devoted affections? I cannot fathom _ ~~

  
  


~~_ My dearest Victor, _ ~~

~~_ How can I begin _ ~~

  
  


~~_ My beloved Victor, _ ~~

  
  
  


_ Dear Lt. Giacometti, _

_ I hope this letter finds you well, and in a charitable frame of mind.  I realize we have only recently been acquainted, and I ask your forgiveness for the forwardness of this correspondence.  I pray you will hear me out when I tell you I only write to seek aid in securing the happiness of a very dear friend to us both.  A great duty is upon me, that is, repairing the estrangement between our dear Mr. Nikiforov and myself, an estrangement that is only due to my own insecurity and self-doubt.  I seek to mend the bridge between us, but for that cause I shall require the help of friends, if you can find it in your heart to consider us so.   _

_ I hope to see your swift response, for my own sake as well as his.   _

 

_ Your Most Obedient etc… _

_ Mr. Yuuri Katsuki   _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tragic backstory of a secondary character sheds light on the current emotional crisis in progress! The best part of any Austen romance.
> 
> Next up: A party!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))))

Victor stands in a quiet corner of a loud party, a glass of champagne in his hand long gone warm.  They’ve only even been here an hour and yet Victor is longing for the darkness of his velvet draped bed, that he might brood in peace over his own misfortunes.  In the month since he and Yuri had returned to town Victor had hardly left his townhouse, only stepping out for the bare obligations required of him to sponsor his young ward in his debut.  Still, when he had received the invitation to Christophe’s home he knew it would be a cruel affront to reject his friend’s invitation.  So here he is, dressed in his best finery and his heartbreak on display in the corner of Christophe’s ballroom.

Yuri has long since vanished into the crowd with his friend Mr. Altin, who apparently is on a short holiday from university and most eager to spend time with Victor’s ward.  Victor sighs, and tries to find some good spirits for the sake of his honorary little brother. Yuri is a young man in society now, and Victor should encourage him in making friends, and looking to the future should he meet someone with whom he can find mutual affection.  Just because Victor has dashed his own chances for happiness does not mean Master Plisetsky should suffer the same fate.  

Victor’s turn toward the morose is interrupted by his host.  Christophe is looking well, as always, and Victor’s friend is always at this happiness when he is surrounded by drunk friends.  Thus opening his city townhouse to a sparkling array of guests is his ideal activity.

“Victor, it is good to see you out and about,” Christophe greets him with his favored continental hello, “You’ve responded to one of my invitations at last.”

“Yes, I’m afraid I’ve been rather ill company these last weeks,” Victor replies, doing his best to offer his friend a smile, “But Yuri is only so recently debuted I didn’t have the heart to keep him home on account of my low mood.”

“What you need is to get out of that townhouse of yours and enjoy yourself,” Christophe encourages, “A few drinks and time spent with friends will cure many ills.”

“Perhaps,” Victor demurs, “Though I may yet retire early, depending on Master Plisetsky’s wishes.”

“Nonsense!  Your ward will have a great time, and so will you, if you would just put your mind to it.  Is that a new dinner jacket?” Christophe asks, “The color is most becoming on you.”

“Hardly,” Victor replies, glancing to the deep violet of his sleeves in puzzlement, “You’ve seen me in this coat a dozen times.  Have you had too much to drink already?”

“Just trying to cheer you up, my friend,” Christophe insists, “It saddens us all to see you so downtrodden.”

“It is of my own doing,” Victor sighs, thinking painfully on his own foolishness, “So there is little for to be done about it.”

Christophe frowns, and opens his mouth to speak when waiter approaches, murmuring something in Christophe’s ear that Victor doesn’t catch.  Christophe’s expression takes on an excited sense of mischief, which he just as quickly schools when Victor looks at him curiously.

“You must forgive me,” Christophe apologizes once the servant returns to their duties, “It seems one of the many responsibilities of hosting drags me away.  But stay! The night is young, and I promise you will enjoy yourself if you give it a few moments attempt.”

“As you say,” Victor agrees amiably, toasting his friend with his near empty glass.  Christophe vanishes into the throng of cheerful partygoers, and Victor is once again left to ponder his own solitude.  

Victor has passed off his glass to an empty server’s tray, and is just thinking of finding Yuri and going home despite his promise to his host when the music comes to a sudden stop.  The dancers swirling on the floor come to an awkward pause, looking around uncertainly until Christophe himself appears at the head of the room, his tall red-clad figure hard to miss even amidst the finery of his guests.  

“Friends, forgive this short interlude in tonight’s festivities,” he announces, “On behalf of Mr. Giacometti and myself, I thank you for joining us in our humble abode.”

There is a polite sprinkling of applause.  Despite Christophe’s sometimes eccentric behavior, he is certainly well liked.  

“Now, we shall very shortly return to our scheduled programme of dancing and merriment,” he promises, “But first, Mr. Nikiforov.” 

Victor jumps to be singled out so, but Christophe offers him a reassuring wink.  

“If you would be so good as to step forward.”

The other guests stare as Victor obeys, stepping onto the empty dance floor with some trepidation.  

“My apologies, everyone,” Christophe says with a charming smile as his guests murmur, “But there is someone here who would speak to my friend, and it is a most urgent matter indeed."

When Christophe steps aside, Victor’s breath catches in his throat, for it is none other than Katsuki Yuuri that he reveals.  Yuuri steps forward to face him, wearing that same navy dinner jacket as the night they first met, his expression warring between self-consciousness and determination.

It has been near three months since the dissolving of their connection and Victor’s quitting of Katsuki Cottage, and yet at this moment gazing upon Yuuri’s face again the wound is torn open anew.  Victor traces every line and limb of his beloved and knows for certain that his feelings for this beautiful man have not budged one inch since the day of their first meeting, whatever anger and heartbreak had come between them since.  Yuuri is here, and Victor is a whole man again.  

There is a murmur in the room, and Victor realizes he has only been staring while Yuuri is trying to talk to him.

“Vict--Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri asks, concern visible in his features, “Are you well?”

“I am quite well,” Victor promises, still utterly fixated, “What would you speak to me on, sir?”

Yuuri steps toward him, and like a magnet Victor is drawn forward until they stand face to face in the middle of the empty floor.  

“I’ve missed you,” Yuuri whispers, a greeting meant only for Victor’s ears.  

“And I you.”  They are so close, Victor has to restrain himself from reaching out to touch.  “Most dearly.”

“There has been too much misunderstanding between us,” Yuuri says out loud now, taking Victor’s hand in his own, “Which has only led to both our sorrows.  So I shall endeavor to speak plainly.”

One could hear a pin drop, so still is the air as Victor awaits his beloved’s proclamation.  Yuuri’s grip on Victor’s hand is almost painful, but his voice is steady when he speaks at last.

“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Those words fall upon Victor’s ears like the sweetest rain upon the desert.  

“Ask me what you come to ask, Mr. Katsuki,” he demands, hardly keeping the tremor from his voice, nor the tears from his lashes.  Yuuri appears equally stricken with emotion but he nods, firm in his resolve as he drops to one knee, and from his pocket reveals the plain gold ring Victor had returned to him in his reckless anger.

“Victor Nikiforov,” he asks, eyes shining, “Will you make me the happiest of men?  Will you consent to be my spouse?”

Upon Yuuri’s declaration there is a titter of disapproval in the crowd, and even some muffled laughter.  After all, who is this bumpkin, hardly dressed for a proper society gathering in his ill-fitted dinner jacket, to proposition Victor Nikiforov, a respected lord and gentleman?  They likely think him drunk, or a fool.

And he likely is.  But then, Victor has proven himself quite the fool as well.  And the young man kneeling in front of him, gold ring offered in his shaking hand, is the most beautiful sight Victor has ever beheld.   

His beloved has done as he asked.  Yuuri has gifted Victor with this opportunity, in front of all of society, to prove that it was Katsuki Yuuri, innkeeper’s son, who swept the master of the Nikiforov estate off his feet.  To show that their station plays no role in their connection, only the love between them.

There is a faint  _ plop _ and Victor realizes he has ruined yet another dinner jacket with his tears.  However these tears are brought by nothing but the purest joy.

“Yes,” Victor declares, voice hardly more than a sob, “Yes, my Yuuri.  A thousand times,  _ yes _ .”

Yuuri’s answering smile is brilliant.  There is nothing left but to remove Victor’s glove, a struggle with both of them trembling like newborn foals, until his hand is bare and Yuuri can slide the ring onto Victor’s finger.  With the gold band back in its proper place Victor finally feels as though the world has settled properly onto its axis, and the constant sorrow of his heart replaced with the brightest and most radiant sunlight.  Overcome, Victor pulls Yuuri into his arms, propriety be damned.  He buries his nose in his beloved’s raven hair, feels the puff of Yuuri’s breath against his throat, and Victor at last knows peace.

Despite his absolute joy, after some moments Victor can’t help but notice the room has fallen into a total state of awkward quiet.  He and Yuuri stand, practically  _ intertwined _ in the middle of the crowded ballroom, having just made a royal spectacle of themselves.  His thoughts venture to what young Master Plisetsky’s expression must look like right now, and Victor finds himself grinning in spite of it all.  

“A public proposal, my darling?” Victor whispers in Yuuri’s ear, “What  _ shall _ you think of next?”

“Yes, well,” Yuuri mumbles, face beet red, “I didn’t want there to be any doubt between us.”  

Victor laughs, squeezing his fiancé tight, and bears the embarrassment gladly.  

“Congratulations, my friends!” Christophe interjects at last from amidst the shocked guests, gallantly rescuing Victor and Yuuri from their predicament, “This calls for a toast!”

Relieved to finally receive a familiar social cue from their host the crowd scurries to retrieve glasses or let waiters refill their empty flutes with champagne falling silent once again when Christophe raises his glass.

“To your engagement,” Christophe toasts, “May your love spawn a lifetime of passions, and may the scandalous tale of your proposal enliven dull parties for years to come!”

There’s a polite clinking of glasses, then from the back of the room someone chimes in a “hear, hear!”. That prompts an awkward smattering of applause, which grows until Victor and Yuuri are holding each other in the center of a crowd of well-wishers.  The musicians begin to play again, and all shock at Katsuki Yuuri’s interruption is forgotten in favor of a celebration of their happiness.

A waltz begins around them, but Victor’s feet may as well be nailed to the floor, so content is he to remain where he is in his beloved’s embrace.  Victor stares into his Yuuri’s deep brown eyes, seeing nothing but the promise of love and devotion to last the rest of their lives.  He cups Yuuri’s face, admiring the shine of his ring, never to be taken off again, in the sparkling lights of the ballroom.  

“Kiss me?” Victor pleads, heart overflowing.  Yuuri colors, but he smiles, and pulls Victor yet closer by the lapels of his jacket.

“I suppose we shall already be the talk of the season,” he murmurs, flushed, “What’s one more impropriety?”

Victor replies equally softly as he tilts his fiancé’s chin up towards his own, “I hear a little impropriety now and then is healthy.”

  
Yuuri’s nose wrinkles in a grin, and they are both smiling when their lips meet at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus completes the main events of our story! But fear not readers, there will be a final scene! I’ll give you a hint as to its contents. It starts with “w-” and ends with “-edding night” :p  
> Thank you all for your lovely comments, they've meant the world and kept me motivated to finish my first YOI fic!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! rest assured Victor and Yuuri have a beautiful wedding, with all their friends and Yuuri's family and the velvet coats are breathtaking and none of us care because it's time for the big event! Enjoy, and thanks for joining me on this lovely ride!

For the first time since he’d become a man, Victor Nikiforov undresses himself with his own two hands.  Cravat, tuxedo jacket, waistcoat.  Victor carefully undoes the complicated buttons of his wedding suit, laying the pieces out on a stool left behind the woven screen where he changes for bed.  His valet will see to them in the morning, but Victor’s trusted manservant was elsewhere this evening.  There would be no chance of Victor being disturbed, tonight of all nights.  Not when Katsuki Yuuri waits for him on the other side of this screen, dressed for bed and ready for their first night together in marriage.

Victor slips into a simple white tunic, and ties his dressing gown over top of that.  He is hardly nervous, only...breathless with anticipation.  With a reassuring glance at the gold ring sparkling on his finger Victor steps out from behind the screen to greet his spouse.  

Yuuri is waiting for him in only a summer nightshirt.  Victor has to take a deep breath to steady himself before he is capable of joining his husband at the edge of the bed.  Their bed.  His  _ husband. _

“I dreamed of you like this,” Victor confesses, when he settles on the plush mattress beside Yuuri, both their feet dangling above the floor.  He reaches out to touch Yuuri’s hand, tracing the ridge of his knuckles before fingering the loose cuff of the white garment.  

“Did you, now?” Yuuri wonders, twining their fingers together.  Beside the twinkling gold of Victor’s ring there is now a matching band on Yuuri’s own ring finger.  

Victor nods.  “In those dark months of my despair, I thought I might never be blessed with this sight.”

Yuuri’s gaze goes briefly mournful, but an understanding smile graces his lips.  There is no more need for sorrow, or apologies between them.

“But here you are now,” Victor breathes, “All of you for me to touch.  ...to love.”

Barely able to contain his trembling, Victor puts his hand to the gentle curve of Yuuri’s bare throat, dragging his thumb over the fluttering point of his pulse as Yuuri’s eyes fall closed with a sigh.  His touch goes further, to trace over the slim vee of collarbone made available to him by the open collar of his nightshirt.  Yuuri releases the softest of sounds, and Victor knows he shall not be satisfied until he has caressed every inch of his spouse’s bare skin.

“Take this off,” Victor begs, breath already coming short as he tugs at the sheer linen hiding his beloved’s form, “Oh, my darling let me see you.”

“You too,” Yuuri entreats him, already reaching for the tie of Victor’s dressing gown.

“Yes, of course.” Victor sheds the garment readily, and his own nightshirt underneath, casting both to the floor without a second thought.  With shaking hands he assists his husband in pulling his own loose linen shirt over his head, until they are well and truly bared to one another.

Yuuri is beautiful.  In the dim light of their bedchamber he glows, his limbs firm and muscled and yet he retains a soft and healthy fullness, as lovely as any Rembrandt or Vermeer.  His skin, though far warmer than Victor’s own pasty complexion, is nonetheless pale and smooth, covered as it always is during the daylight hours by snug cravats and high collared jackets.  Victor drags his gaze greedily along his husband’s figure, a sight which shall be his alone for the rest of their days together.  Heat pools in his belly, and he longs to know the touch of their bare bodies.  Yuuri seems to be of a similar mind, kneeling up to approach Victor on the bed, his cock hanging full and flushed between his legs. 

“Can I kiss you?” Yuuri’s voice is soft, and shy, and Victor would laugh but for the all encompassing desire that swamps him.  

“Yes.”  Victor pulls Yuuri’s hand to his lips, kissing first his knuckles, then his palm, then the sweet pulse at his wrist before pressing it to his own bared chest.  “You never have to ask, it will always be ‘yes’.”

Victor is lying fully on his back with Yuuri tucked between his thighs when his husband finally takes his mouth in earnest.  Victor parts his lips almost at once, as eager for the taste of Yuuri on his tongue as he is for the press of his body.  Yuuri too, is fearless, a wedding ring at last giving him the confidence to take from Victor what he wants.  His kisses grow fervent, then haphazard, missing Victor’s mouth altogether in favor of his jaw, then his neck and throat.  Victor merely wraps his arms around his husband while Yuuri explores his body, treasuring every bare inch of their skin pressed close.    

Victor hisses when Yuuri's kiss against his throat turns sharp, sucking the skin between his teeth to leave a delicate bruise.

“Ah--did I hurt you?” Yuuri demands when he hears Victor's surprised intake of breath, “My darling, forgive me--”

“No,” Victor urges, blood rushing to his groin as he savors the exquisite pain and shivery delight of the light mark.  He practically drags Yuuri’s lips back to his skin. “Give me  _ more _ .”

Victor is soon the proud bearer of a near half-dozen love bites, the reddish marks leaving a trail of his husband’s affection across his chest.  He moans at each new destination of Yuuri’s lips, and gasps helplessly with each nip of his teeth against his flesh.  Victor’s arousal throbs between his legs as Yuuri claims him in the most intimate manner possible.  

The most intimate manner possible  _ but for one _ .

“Yuuri,” Victor pleads, his grip woven through his husband’s raven hair as Yuuri bites down on his nipple and soothes it with his tongue in the same breath, “ _ Yuuri _ .”

Victor pants as Yuuri rises to kiss him, light but hardly chaste.  “Speak, my love,” Yuuri urges when they part, “Tell me how I can serve you.”

Victor can’t contain another soft moan.  He tips his head back, baring his throat to match the submission of his husband’s words.  Their stations mean nothing here, in their marriage bed.  They are equals, and Victor intends to show Yuuri in revealing the deepest of his desires.  

“Be one with me.”

Victor lets his limbs fall slack against their silk sheets, spreading his thighs around his husband’s waist so Yuuri cannot possibly mistake his meaning. 

Yuuri gasps, fingers tracing gently down the column of Victor’s exposed throat.  “Y-you want that?”

“Yes.”  Victor’s eyes fall closed and he bites his lip.  “I nearly come undone just thinking of it.  Yuuri, please _,_ _please_ have me _._ ”

A discrete pharmacy bottle waits on their nightstand, the mottled green glass containing the viscous oil necessary for their happy copulation.  After kissing Victor again most ardently Yuuri reaches for that selfsame bottle, uncorking it to fill the air with the delicate scent of lavender.  

Victor is certain that after tonight that scent shall forever invoke in him a most desperate and amorous need.  

Yuuri coats his fingers in the sweet smelling oil and draws them between Victor’s legs, pressing inside where Victor has never been touched by another.  Victor breathes deeply, allowing his husband to prepare him for their joining.  Yuuri is gentle, and thorough, working him open so slowly and all the while making Victor dizzy with sweet kisses and murmured endearments. 

After several minutes and three of Yuuri’s fingers inside him with no pain, Victor makes his readiness known.  He watches, laid out like a feast for his lover on the silken linens of their marriage bed, as Yuuri fists his hard cock, slicking himself with oil until he is nearly dripping.  With Victor’s guidance he positions himself, bending Victor’s thighs around his waist and leaning forward until they are near enough to kiss.  Victor blesses his dedication to the fencing field, as he is just fit enough to flex and their position demands.  

All thought of the  _ salle _ evaporates when Victor feels a wet nudge at his entrance and is hit with the realization that it’s Yuuri, hard and waiting to take him.  Victor cannot help but release a whimper as anticipation floods his veins.    

“Are you sure?” Yuuri asks, a flicker of nerves behind the desire in his gaze.  Victor draws him close for a soft kiss.

“I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” Victor murmurs against Yuuri’s lips, “Make love to me, Yuuri.”

There is a breath of silence, and when Victor exhales, Yuuri is pressing in, filling him.  Yuuri moves agonizingly slowly, leaving Victor hyperaware of every titillating point of contact between them.  The stretch of Yuuri’s arousal working its way inside him, the reassuring strength of Yuuri’s thighs holding his own open, the fingerprint pressure of Yuuri’s grip on his hips, Victor feels them all anew with every shudder of his pulse until Yuuri is pressed flush against him, and they are joined completely. 

“Are you--” Yuuri pauses to breathe, clearly overwhelmed by the clutch of Victor’s body around his cock.  “--Are you all right?”  

“Yes,” Victor promises, brow furrowed as he adjusts to the stretch and fullness, “Just-- _ ah-- _ a moment, please.”

They pause, Victor panting in Yuuri’s arms until the ache of penetration settles and he grows impatient for the sublime pleasure yet to come.

“You should move,” Victor encourages his husband, pressing his heels to the back of Yuuri’s thighs, “Slowly.”

Yuuri nods with an adorable furrow of concentration when he shifts inside Victor, pulling out and pressing in again at such an excruciating pace it could hardly be called a thrust.  Despite his impatience Victor is supremely grateful for his beloved’s care.  Under Yuuri’s painstaking ministrations any remaining pain slips away to be replaced by a most urgent desire for more.

After a length of time, Yuuri now able to move within him at a moderate pace that has Victor sweating with need, he asks, “What is it like?”

“It’s exquisite,” Victor breathes, overcome, “We are both of us at this moment where we most rightfully fit in the world, my precious Yuuri.”

“How you can speak such-- _ ugh-- _ such poetry,” Yuri pants, pulling Victor’s thighs higher around his waist that he might push even deeper inside, “And here I am, beyond all sense.”

“The poetry of your body within mine is more precious than I could ever put into words,” Victor assures him.  Yuuri strokes something within him then that steals all coherent thought from Victor’s tongue.  Eyes bright, Yuuri holds him tight and aims his thrusts to strike that place again.  And again.  And  _ again. _

The first time Victor cries out his pleasure it sets something aflame in his lover, and the rocking of his hips becomes urgent and forceful.  Victor can only hold on as best he can and let himself be submerged in Yuuri’s ardor.

“You’re  _ mine _ ,” Yuuri groans, finally fucking Victor properly, “Only mine.”

“Yes.” Victor clings to his husband, mindless in his euphoria.  “Yuuri,  _ yes _ .”

“And I am yours,” Yuuri vows, breath wet and hot against Victor’s throat.  Victor twines his fingers through Yuuri’s lovely dark hair and tugs, as if it were possible for him to pull their bodies any closer.  His own arousal drags against the press of Yuuri’s soft belly, the most devastating tease of friction coupled with the heat and fullness of his husband’s cock inside him.  

Yuuri does not leave Victor’s mouth unoccupied for long, plying him with long, drugging kisses until they are both gasping for air.  

“My darling, I think-” Victor pants, “-I think I might come.”

Yuuri groans, increasing the urgency of his thrusts and putting a hand to Victor’s cock and that, his beloved’s sweetest touch, is what pushes Victor gratefully over the cliff’s edge of ecstasy.  He spends, spilling white over Yuuri’s fingers and his own midriff, a heavenly chorus in his ears and his husband still moving within him, forceful and tender in equal measure.

“Beautiful,” Victor hears when he at last descends from the celestial realms.  Yuuri stares at him, face flushed and eyes bright, looking near to bursting.  Victor offers his beloved a sated smile.

“Now you,” he urges, gasping with oversensitivity as his husband continues to push inside, “My Yuuri, find your satisfaction. Let me see it again.”

“Ngh,  _ Victor _ ,” Yuuri groans, thrusting once, twice, and again.  His fingers dig tight into the muscle of Victor’s thighs as he stills at last, chest heaving.  Victor watches in awe as his brow furrows and Yuuri’s lips go slack with the cresting of his own orgasm.  

At last Yuuri collapses against him, slumping into Victor’s arms with a soft, vulnerable sound.  He  continues to shift inside him, Yuuri’s movements now slick and wet with his release as Victor croons sweet nothings in his ear.

“My darling,” Victor murmurs, voice rough, “Oh my sweet, sweet Yuuri.”

“I love you,” is Yuuri’s hoarse reply, sienna eyes blinking up to meet Victor’s own.

“And I you,” Victor promises.  Yuuri grins as though drunk and drops his head back to Victor’s chest.  Victor smiles, hazy and well fucked, and does not attempt to move him.  

It’s some long minutes before they are finally compelled to separate from their lover’s embrace, their stickiness finally outweighing their bliss.  With some caution Yuuri withdraws from Victor’s body, holding him for some minutes afterward to soothe the uncomfortable sensation of emptiness.  Afterward it’s a quiet and satiated hunt for a washcloth, which is found in a washbasin left by Victor’s vanity table.  Yuuri wipes the worst of the sweat from their limbs and the mess of their passions from Victor’s belly, before offering the cloth to Victor with a blush, so that he might clean between his legs without embarrassment.  Victor marvels at the small intimacy, stealing a kiss from his sweet husband before giving himself a perfunctory tidying up.  

At long last they are ready to return to the soft cocoon of their marriage bed.  Yuuri pulls back the rumpled covers and slides beneath the creamy sheets, still naked as the day he was born.  Victor likewise forgoes his nightshirt, opting instead to depend on the warmth of their bedding and his husband.  

“Well?” Yuuri asks once they are both tucked in beneath their covers, his limbs loose and his voice teasing, “Have I performed ably, Mr. Nikiforov?  Are you well pleasured?”

“It will take a lifetime to slake my thirst for you, Mr. Katsuki," Victor purrs, settling into his husband's gentle embrace, "But at this moment, I find myself intensely satisfied."

“That’s good to hear,” Yuuri murmurs, nuzzling into Victor’s fine hair, “Because I’m afraid you’re well and truly saddled with me from here on out.”

Victor hums, his eyes growing heavy in his post climactic bliss.  “We are  _ quite _ married now,” he agrees, grinning against his husband’s chest, “And I find I am most content with my choice of spouse.”

Victor feels the press of Yuuri’s lips to his crown, his kiss shaped by a smile.  His husband strokes his fingers through Victor’s hair once, before they both settle in for their first night of slumber in the married state.

  
It is to be the most restful night of sleep Victor has ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))))  
> Thank you all for your lovely kudos and comments, it's so wonderful to be welcomed into this amazing fandom. I only ask, if you enjoyed Healthy Impropriety, tell your friends! Rec it on tumblr, and link me here on ao3 or on tumblr @summersteve. I'm always looking for new YOI blogs to follow, so come find me! I follow back (as long as you aren't underage, sorry!)
> 
> Anyways thank you thank you thank you!!


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